


when i first saw you, it rained

by eyeronicmuch



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Tenki no Ko | Weathering With You, M/M, Magical Realism, Mentioned Character Death, Unspecified Setting, a LOT of rain, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeronicmuch/pseuds/eyeronicmuch
Summary: “You know,” Sicheng says, changing the topic of conversation, “there's something about this rain here that is so strange...”“Really?” Jaehyun asks. His face is illuminated by the dim yellow lights of the restaurant, almost like a glow. He looks golden. “Why do you think so?”—or, Sicheng moves to a town where it always rains.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun, past tenwin - Relationship
Comments: 53
Kudos: 176





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i had three (3) scenes in mind when i started planning for this and somehow this turned into over 40k words lord help me...
> 
> i'm not sure how to tag the trope where someone's emotions are tied to the weather but this fic is exactly it sjdhsj i also probably overuse the words rain umbrella and tea lol
> 
> warnings: mentioned character death

It’s a day after his arrival when Sicheng busies himself with unpacking his belongings. Yesterday was too much of a shock to him—he had disembarked the train right in the middle of a downpour and got drenched within the thirty seconds he was looking for his taxi. The rain didn’t stop even as the delivery truck arrived and unloaded his items into his new house, getting them all soaked as a result. It wasn’t a warm welcome, but he can’t say he was promised one when he applied to work in this town. 

“How are you holding up?” Kun asks him through the phone.

“Pretty good,” Sicheng replies, trying to balance his phone between his shoulder and face and the boxes in his arms that he had put off unpacking due to them being wet and him being tired the day before. “I have a tour around the school tomorrow.”

“Worried?” he hears Kun ask.

“A little, I admit,” Sicheng says, putting the boxes down on the floor in his bedroom and finally getting rid of the uncomfortable strain in his neck. He exhales. “It’s only a matter of time until the students start hating me.”

Kun laughs then, “That’s on you for teaching maths.”

“I suppose so,” Sicheng finds himself smiling. “How are you?”

“Work’s alright. The apartment is so lonely without you now,” Kun is saying while Sicheng puts him on speaker and starts opening the boxes, momentarily thinking that he really ought to have labeled them properly and not in a rush, “It feels weird to not have to cook for an extra soul.”

Sicheng’s lips quirk up, but his heart is sinking down, “You still have Ten.”

“Ah yes, that other parasite,” Kun says, and Sicheng can almost imagine the silly smile that must be on Kun’s face right now, the one that he reserves only for them both—one that’s twinged with a certain adoration and fondness. “Are you really living in a house now?”

“Yeah,” Sicheng says. “It’s close to the school and rent is very cheap. The landlady is a friend of the Headmaster or something. I’m guessing it’s compensation for the bad weather here.” 

“Incredible,” Kun replies, with amusement in his voice. “Does it really rain non-stop?”

“I can’t be entirely sure.” Sicheng scrunches his nose when he sees that his clothes haven’t dried off completely over the night. He assumes it’s because of the humidity in the air. “It rained buckets when I first got here, but today it’s been just cloudy. It’s not that bad, honestly; at least there’s no smog from the city.”

Kun hums through the call and wistfully says, “Did you really have to move this far?”

Sicheng folds and unfolds the shirt he’s holding onto. It leaves his fingertips a little wrinkly because of its dampness. He puts it on the edge of his bed. “Yes,” he says after a while. “I was thinking about it for a long time.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Don’t forget to text us,” Kun then says with acceptance, “and visit us. I know how you can get.”

Sicheng laughs a little. “I won’t, promise.”

“Great.” There’s a knock on the other end of the line. “Someone’s here,” Kun says. Sicheng hears shuffling, and then, “It’s Ten. Will you say hi?”

“I have to unpack,” Sicheng says, the excuse automatically rolling off his tongue. “Maybe next time?” 

“Alright.” Kun can sense the apprehension in Sicheng’s tone no matter how hard he tries to conceal it, and they take turns saying goodbyes until the doorbell rings loudly and Sicheng promptly hangs up. He listens to his phone beep several times before he sighs and continues with unpacking. 

He gathers all his clothes and either hangs them to dry or throws them into the drier in the laundry room. Then, he sorts out his other belongings—he realizes he didn’t bring that much, probably because of deciding to relocate on practically a whim—and learning materials. His papers are wet and crumpled in his hands just like he’d imagined, and Sicheng laughs to himself at his predicament and goes downstairs to make himself some tea to get his mind off everything.

It’s cloudy. It’s those types of clouds that hang low and ominous in the sky, looking like they could break out into a rain at any given moment. Sicheng swirls the silver spoon in his cup and looks outside the window. 

He thinks of going on a walk today. It’s the end of August, so it shouldn’t be that cold even if he is closer to the North. Sicheng finishes his tea a minute later, puts on a light jacket and takes an umbrella with himself just in case it rains again. He loads GoogleMaps and pleasantly realizes his house is located close to the sea. The app indicates that it’s a few-minute walk. 

Right off the bat, Sicheng is greeted with a gust of wind and the smell of fresh air as he steps outside. His surroundings are full of nature, with quaint little houses in between the trees, and yes, Sicheng thinks, this is exactly why he decided to move to this town without any hesitation even despite the weather. The fairytale-like two-floor buildings with red chipped roofs, the cobblestone pavements dating centuries back, the sea—it’s all so cozy and so different from the concrete jungle he’d always known back in the city. And then, there’s the lighthouse by the edge of the town, located by a cliff, standing tall and so beautiful.

There’s something about the sky being grey that gives the scenery a peculiar charm. In contrast with the emerald grass, Sicheng thinks it looks even prettier this way. The sea is of a deep blue colour, with seagulls gawking above his head as they fly to and back, and the waves crash loudly against the cliffs, foaming and dissipating into nothing. It’s almost calming. Sicheng takes a photo of the landscape for his friend group chat and his family and heads back to his house, his umbrella clutched under his armpit and his hair getting tousled gently by the wind.

Once there, when he finishes unpacking he starts his laptop and reads over the email he received from the school about the tour around campus and spends the evening putting together his learning materials until the sky darkens and his eyes start hurting from the strain. 

He sits and ponders about how things will go tomorrow. There’s the fear of giving off a wrong first impression that Sicheng keeps at bay, there’s the general worry of how he will be received by others once the semester starts in the beginning of September. There’s also the slowly dawning realization that he’s completely and utterly alone here, far away from his parents, even further from his friends. 

Sicheng could be scared, but he also could treat it as a new head start. As a new beginning, a new chapter of his life. However, as bittersweet as it is, Sicheng thinks that some part of him—big or small—stayed behind, in his shared apartment with Kun back in the city, with Ten. 

All he can do is look ahead. He closes his laptop and trudges upstairs, taking in the creaking of the wooden stairs under his every step. It’s truly a miracle how he ended up renting an entire house—he wonders as he brushes his teeth—for so cheap. He catches himself placing all of his toiletries on the right side of the sink, then remembers he has no reason to do that anymore.

The house is too big for him. With high ceilings and spacious rooms, filled with the strong smell of wood, Sicheng is reminded that people should live in houses together and not alone. He lies in his bed that’s also too big for just one person on the left side of the bed—a habit—and falls asleep to the sound of the patting of the rain. 

—

Sicheng wakes to the sound of his alarm. It ricochets through the room and makes Sicheng squeeze his eyes and hold back a groan from wanting to hold on to the remnants of sleep for a bit longer than time allows. He forces himself to wake up fully, then gets dressed in a modest suit and forgoes breakfast for a cup of bitter coffee instead, and hears a knock on his door around the time his cup becomes empty. 

Sicheng looks through the peephole and carefully unlocks the door. 

“Good morning,” says a man with an umbrella above his head. It’s raining again, hard and loud. “Dong Sicheng, right?”

Sicheng nods, “That’s me.”

The man beams. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dong. I’m Johnny Suh, the Headmaster of the high school of this town.”

Sicheng’s eyes widen as he bows. He hadn’t expected the Headmaster to be this... young. Judging by the lack of wrinkles on Johnny’s face and the smoothness of his skin when he smiles, Sicheng assumes they must be close in age. “Please, Sir, do come in.”

Johnny laughs lightly, “I just dropped by to ask if now would be a comfortable time for you to have a tour around the school, but if you insist.”

“Excuse the messiness,” Sicheng says, nodding, “I arrived here two nights ago and I’m still unpacking.”

“Yes, yes,” Johnny hums as he takes off his coat and closes his umbrella. “How are you liking it here so far?”

“It’s a very lovely town,” Sicheng smiles. He pours coffee into a new mug for Johnny. “Do you prefer milk or sugar?”

“Just milk, thank you,” Johnny replies politely. He then asks, “Silly question, but how’s the weather for you so far?”

“It’s quite rainy,” Sicheng says with a laugh. “I know you mentioned the weather isn’t very likeable here, but does it always rain this much like that?”

“It has been raining almost every day for the past year,” Johnny then explains. He takes a sip of the coffee and lets out an appreciative sound. “I haven't seen the Sun in a bit over a year.”

“Wow,” Sicheng says, “that sounds almost surreal.”

“I know,” Johnny sighs. “Scientists can’t explain the lack of good weather either. The rain is making many people pack their things and leave for the neighbouring towns. Hence why our school was looking for teachers so urgently. I’m glad you applied, Sicheng. I know it may sound like a lot, but I hope you stay.”

Sicheng says softly, “I’d like to stay. Now, about the tour?”

“Oh, right,” Johnny stands up. “If you’d follow me.”

Sicheng gets ready in a few seconds and follows Johnny out of the door. They walk fast through the rain through the puddles. Raindrops hit and roll off Sicheng’s umbrella steadily, almost calmingly, in repeating motions. Sicheng thinks the rain almost has the sound of a heartbeat. 

The school is located a few houses down. It’s a rather large building, but still smaller than the schools Sicheng taught at in the city. It’s empty of students when they reach inside—but most importantly it’s dry—and Sicheng folds his umbrella and runs a hand over his shoulders to shake off any excess water that hasn't been absorbed yet by the fabric of his suit. 

Johnny leads him around the entire building except the courtyard—it’s still pouring—and tells him with a smile, “There a handful of young teachers like you are here in our school, I’m sure you’ll fit in just well. I think either Taeyong or Yuta should be in the teacher’s room right now, if you’d like, I could show you your desk there as well as your future classroom.”

Sicheng nods soundlessly. The teacher’s room is located on the other end of the hallway. The lights are on and shuffling can be heard from inside, and something in Sicheng’s stomach churns at the fact that he may have to make a right first impression right this second. Johnny knocks once on the door and opens it to a spacious room with one man standing by the printers with crossed arms. 

“Taeyong,” Johnny calls, “come say hi to your new colleague.”

At that Taeyong’s arms uncross and his eyes widen. He goes up to Sicheng and offers a handshake. “Are you the new Maths teacher?”

Sicheng shakes his hand with a wry smile, “Yes. Dong Sicheng.”

“Lee Taeyong,” Taeyong smiles. “Nice to meet you. I teach Art.”

His grip is firm around Sicheng’s hand. “Would you like some tea?” Taeyong asks. “You must be cold.”

Sicheng takes in the space of the room. It’s all wooden, with a number of desks and windows that don’t quite retain the heat of the building, letting the wind seep through its cracks and envelop Sicheng in a cold hug. “Tea would be nice,” he says, noticing the shivers on his skin. He holds back a sneeze. 

Johnny shows Sicheng his desk meanwhile Taeyong turns on the electric kettle to his right. It’s quiet, save for Johnny’s mellow talking, the boiling sounds of the kettle, and the light patting of the rain against the window outside. 

The mug of tea is warm against the palms of Sicheng’s hands. He blows at the steam in an attempt to cool the liquid down, listens to what Johnny has to say. They’ve relocated to a classroom a floor up—Sicheng’s new workplace.

“Our school is rather small, so we have only two classes in the same year. The kids here are very nice, I’m sure they’ll like you.”

Sicheng smiles lightly. “I hope they’ll like high school level of Maths.”

At that Johnny laughs. “That depends on the teacher more often than not.” He puts a comforting arm on Sicheng’s shoulder, warm and heavy. “I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Suh.”

“Please, just call me Johnny,” Johnny waves his hand, an amiable smile on his face. “Classes will start in a week, but there’ll be a teacher’s meeting a few days before that. Do come, it would be a good opportunity to connect with everyone here.”

Sicheng says, “I’d love to.” 

Sicheng can’t say if he’s filled with excitement more or dread. Meeting new people, having to weave himself into already existing strings of dynamics and relationships is never something he was ever good at, but he has no choice but to pick the needle and force himself in. He gives Johnny a tight lipped smile and a bow by the exit of the school and opens his umbrella that didn’t even have a chance to dry and plunges himself into the rain. 

Once home, he toes off his shoes and unceremoniously changes into home wear and draws a hot bath. He notices he has several messages from Kun, which he reads over and promises to answer later, and a few from Ten, which he ignores and doesn’t even want to look at. Anxiety pools at the base of his stomach in a familiar knot which he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he does. Sicheng exhales deeply and wishes for the feeling to go away.

But it’s been only a few weeks, and the wound in his chest is still fresh and raw, and Sicheng still has a Ten-shaped hole in his already wounded heart. 

He puts his phone on silent and busies himself with dinner. Sicheng initially thought it would be harder living alone after having been used to constant noise beside him for several years, but the silence isn’t that deafening as he had feared. The rain keeps him silent company as he fries his rice, calming his anxiety and making the knot in his stomach unravel bit by bit. 

The kitchen table feels a bit too empty for only one person, but Sicheng figures he’ll just have to get used to being a half instead of a whole. 

Sicheng goes to the school several days later. He gets introduced to the course material and gets acquainted with the rest of his colleagues. They throw him a surprise party which he doesn’t expect, but it does make him feel included. Awkwardly he makes small talk with the staff, old and young, accepts the drinks and food they’ve prepared for him gratefully, feels himself weave into their little tapestry. 

He’s treated differently here compared to back home. He supposed it’s because of the tight-knit community the town has, people welcome him as their own and are genuinely more amiable and accepting, whereas in the city people minded their business and kept things more personal. He supposes the weather also plays a vital role here: the school can’t afford to lose any more teachers, so anyone relocating to and working in this gloomy sea town is already like a blessing in itself. 

“Are you liking it here so far?” Nakamoto Yuta, the P.E teacher, asks him. 

“I am,” Sicheng honestly says, accepting the slice of homemade pie Yuta gives him on a plastic plate. 

“That’s quite nice to hear,” Yuta smiles, “no one really likes the weather here.”

“The rain has its charm,” Sicheng answers. He can’t say he doesn’t wish to see the Sun because that would be a lie, but there’s something about it raining constantly that’s both comforting as it is depressing. 

“I really do wonder though,” Yuta continues, “and I’m sorry if I’m prying, but why did you move here?”

It’s a funny question, almost as funny as why someone like Yuta, who’s young and full of energy and potential, is staying here in endless gloom instead of moving away somewhere with more amiable weather conditions. 

“It’s a beautiful town,” Sicheng replies. 

“That it is,” Yuta replies. “It’s even prettier when the sky is clear, you’ll see.”

Sicheng makes small talk with him for a bit more until Taeyong joins them with two plastic cups of orange juice. Sicheng accepts the cup gratefully and is reminded of the little parties he had with his classmates and homeroom teacher back in high school, just like this one—with cakes and plastic cups full of juice and a lighthearted atmosphere. Sicheng smiles to himself at the nostalgia as he sips on the drink and takes a bite of the berry pie; it’s almost like he’s sixteen again. 

Taeyong and Yuta seem to be in their own little bubble, and Sicheng immediately notices they must be together. How nice it must be, he ponders, to have someone to share your heart and life with, how heartbreaking. Sicheng looks away from them and sees Johnny not far away from him, talking to someone who Sicheng assumes is Kim Doyoung, the literature teacher. Doyoung catches his gaze and encourages him to step into their little bubble with a wave.

“We were just discussing how it’s nice to see another young face in our collective,” Doyoung jokes. 

“I didn’t think I’d see so many young teachers myself,” Sicheng smiles, “it’s refreshing.”

“Right?” Doyoung continues. “As much as I respect and appreciate Mrs. Park, I don’t have much interest in her knitting escapades.”

“Don’t let her hear that,” Johnny laughs beside them, “she thinks you adore knitting.”

“She’s one hell of a physics teacher, I must admit,” Doyoung says. He turns to Sicheng fully then, eyes kind, “I think you’ll fit in just nicely here.” 

And then the school year begins, and Sicheng is greeted with twenty pairs of fresh-out-of-summer little heads. He smiles throughout the entire introduction and the kids cheer when he says today’s lesson will be cut short and then they groan the next day when Sicheng announces they’ll be having a quiz on geometry in a week, but it’s all so familiar and heartwarming in a sense, Sicheng finds himself falling back into comfortable routine of teaching and learning and teaching again. 

“How’s it going?” Taeyong asks him one day after classes have finished, both of them being stuck in the staff room grading homework. Outside, leaves have started to change their colours from green to gold; a sign autumn is here. It’s raining softly.

“Pretty good,” Sicheng answers with a smile, the automatic reply falling off his lips. “I’m glad to see the majority of the students understanding parallel planes.”

“Maybe you’re just that good at explaining,” Taeyong teases. 

Sicheng shakes his head. “They’re just smart and hardworking.” 

Yuta walks in moments later. “Hi,Sicheng!” he says Sicheng’s way, and then, “Taeyong, are you done? Let's head home.”

“One more drawing,” Taeyong says. 

“Grade it at home!” Yuta pesters, hovering around Taeyong like a shadow. “It’s getting late.”

Sicheng thinks Yuta’s occupation somehow suits him. He has the endless energy P.E. teachers seem to possess. He has an aura of energy and youthfulness which complement his outgoing personality nicely. It complements Taeyong’s calmer personality nicely, now that he thinks about it. Taeyong relents and gets up from the desk.

“Alright. You should go home too, Sicheng,” he says. “It is getting late.

Sicheng nods, “I will.”

Yuta helps Taeyong put on his coat, and in the fluorescent lighting of the room Sicheng spots a silver band shine on his finger, and when Taeyong smiles as he links their arms together, a matching silver ring shines in the process. Sicheng feels something in his stomach churn and twist unpleasantly.

“We’re heading out now,” Yuta informs him. “Have a good weekend!”

Sicheng waves their way with a tight smile, and when he sees them leave through the door, he lowers his hand and stares at his empty ring finger and feels something clog in his throat. He tears his gaze away from the faint imprints of a golden ring he’d taken off a little over two months ago and packs his belongings in a rush. He doesn’t have much to grade anyway.

He trudges through the downpour and thinks that the weather is almost mocking him. The rain hits the ground harshly, chaotically, and when Sicheng lifts his head up from the dark asphalt he notices that the sky is an ominous dark grey. Clouds hang low in the sky, and Sicheng thinks it might thunderstorm tonight. 

The sinking feeling in his chest doesn’t disappear even after he’s loaded himself with work and grading. It’s at the back of his mind, making Sicheng taste bitterness on his tongue, the thought of how Taeyong and Yuta are happily engaged and he isn’t. Thunderstorm rattles heavily and lightning strikes somewhere far in the distance. 

Ten’s messages from days ago are left unread, Sicheng realizes as he makes himself hot chamomile tea. He should feel bad and unreasonable for ignoring Ten so openly and for so long, but instead he sits in front of the window in his living and stares outside at the rain, listens to it, however it doesn’t calm him down like it usually would. He falls asleep on the sofa and wakes up to a sore neck and the usual muted grey cloudy sky, traces of rain long gone. 

—

It’s a cloudy afternoon when Sicheng finds himself by the lighthouse again. He truthfully can’t pinpoint why exactly he’s here; it’s like his feet dragged him to the edge of the town themselves. The lighthouse isn’t anything tall like he’s seen in movies nor is it anything profound, but it’s so authentic and somewhat so simply beautiful standing in the midst of the dark green grass and grey cliffs that Sicheng can’t seem to look away. 

Sicheng notices he isn’t alone. There’s a man by the lighthouse, standing right by the edge of the ground and looking wistfully into the sea. He has a black umbrella over his head, as if anticipating for it to pour.

It starts raining little by little. Raindrops hit Sicheng first before he has the chance to open his umbrella. The sound makes his presence known; the man looks away from the sea and turns his way. The man smiles at him politely, but Sicheng can’t help but think that it looks rather sad. Sicheng can recognize the sadness in the man’s eyes instantly, because they mirror his own. 

“It’s a beautiful lighthouse,” Sicheng says suddenly. 

“Thank you,” the man replies, “she’s an old one.”

“Are you the one maintaining it?”

The man nods. There’s a beat of silence before he curiously says, “I haven’t seen you around here before…”

“I moved here not long ago,” Sicheng explains. “I’m a teacher at the high school.”

“Oh,” the man says, “it’s quite rare to see people move here.”

“So I’ve heard,” Sicheng smiles. 

“The weather is rather bad, as you might already know,” the man laughs, quiet but melodic. He has a deep voice that reminds Sicheng of the waves on a summer evening. “Jeong Jaehyun,” he says, extending a hand, letting the rain touch it. 

“Dong Sicheng,” Sicheng says, shaking Jaehyun’s hand, pulling it back wet. 

Jaehyun has cold hands, dark brown hair that almost reaches his eyes and his lips are turned into a polite but small smile. The tip of his nose is slightly red from the cold, and Sicheng assumes he’s been standing here outside for a while. He’s wearing a long trench coat similar to Sicheng’s own and a turtleneck. 

There’s something about him that’s so inexplicably mysterious, so inexplicably fitting with the landscape and the gloom of the weather. Jaehyun’s hand gets wet after the handshake, but he doesn’t mind. 

“Do you live in the lighthouse?” Sicheng asks him, compelled by growing curiosity to keep the conversation going. 

Jaehyun shakes his head softly, “Only beside it,” he turns his gaze to a house to his right. “Have you ever been inside one?”

“No,” Sicheng replies. “We don’t have those in the city.”

“Ah,” Jaehyun says. “A city boy. Would you like to come inside?”

Sicheng nods. Jaehyun leads him right up to the lighthouse, and then opens the door to it with a creak. Right away Sicheng notices that it’s warm and dry inside. He’s hit with a smell of wood and is met with a high swirling staircase. The lighthouse isn’t small by all means but it isn’t very large either. It’s... cozy, if Sicheng were to describe it. The ground floor of it is decorated with old furniture, there are paintings of the sea and kerosine lamps hanging on the walls, giving off a sense of nostalgia. 

“We can go up to the lantern room if you wish,” Jaehyun says then. “It’s right on the top. Be careful not to slip on the stairs.”

The stairs creak under every Sicheng’s step. How many generations must have walked these very same steps, he muses. The muscles in his thighs burn a little by the time he reaches the top and he takes a deep inhale to slow his erratic heartbeat down. The lantern room is small—it’s surrounded by glass window panels and has a fresnel lens in the middle, outdated and old. There’s an open balcony surrounding the room.

“Can I step out?” Sicheng turns to ask Jaehyun.

“It’s a bit dangerous in this weather,” Jaehyun says, but opens the balcony nonetheless. “Just be careful.”

Sicheng takes a tentative peek outside. What he sees is an entire view over the calm town and the raging sea. The lighthouse is the tallest structure in the area, so Sicheng can clearly descry every single house and road, every field and even see a glimpse of the endless emerald forest somewhere in the distance. 

The rain hits Sicheng’s hair and face gently, almost softly, and even despite water hitting his eyes Sicheng can’t help but step outside fully. He grips onto the wet iron railing of the balcony and takes in the magnificence in front of him. 

He turns his head to the right, and all he can see is the dark blue sea clash and rage until beyond the horizon. It’s at times like these when he can forget about who he is and what he’s doing here; he can forget that he is Dong Sicheng who ran away from his ex-fiancé to a town in the middle of nowhere out of desperation to save his heart and just be one with the nature in the illusion of peace. It’s at times like these when nothing truly matters, when every worry is insignificant compared to the forces of nature.

“Pretty, right?” Jaehyun shakes him out of his stupor. Sicheng blinks, and suddenly the illusion of peace is gone. The rain seems to have lessened by now, there’s only a little simmering of droplets, like a caress. 

“Yeah,” Sicheng replies, something swirling in his chest. “Look, the rain is gone.”

Jaehyun gives him a smile, one more genuine and open. There are dimples adorning his full cheeks, making him look younger than he probably is. 

“Would you like some tea?” Jaehyun asks him. “You must be cold.”

Sicheng takes notice of Jaehyun’s red hands and says, “Only if you’ll have some for yourself, too.”

Jaehyun lets out a small laugh. “Alright.”

—

“Have you heard of Jeong Jaehyun?” Sicheng asks Taeyong in the staff room during lunch on a particularly cloudy afternoon.

“Jeong Jaehyun?” Taeyong says. He’s currently arranging the materials for his next class—watercolour and oil pastels. He takes an experimental brush of a red pastel block across the paper lying on his desk as he says, “I’ve seen him around a few times, I think. He lives by the lighthouse, if I remember correctly.”

Sicheng nods, “That’s him.”

Taeyong eyes widen slightly in a peculiar way with interest when he’s curious. “He’s very kind. Quite polite. I think you two are the same age. However, other than that I can’t say I know much about him.”

“Is that so,” Sicheng muses. 

“Why?” Taeyong inquires. “Did something happen?”

Sicheng shrugs, adjusting his glasses over the bridge of his nose. “I was just wondering. I came across him several days ago. He showed me the lighthouse.”

Taeyong smiles, “Did you go up to the lantern room?”

“And outside to the galleries.”

“Even I haven’t been up there! I’m sure it was lovely.”

Sicheng nods again then. “Jaehyun then offered me tea. He’s very nice company.”

“He’s very nice like that.”

Sicheng thinks back to Jaehyun’s hospitality, his delicious tea, his warm eyes despite the sadness in them. He thinks about how he'd like to see Jaehyun some time again. 

The bell rings, signalling the beginning of classes. Taeyong sighs as he picks up the box of pastels and waves to Sicheng as he heads out. Sicheng stares at his unfinished sandwich, wraps it and puts it away, and then leaves for class himself. 

It’s been around a month since Sicheng has moved to this town. Now, it truly feels like autumn with how it rains almost daily. The everyday gloom is almost romantic, the greyness of the sky and the gold of the trees mixing beautifully together into something melancholic. 

Perhaps Sicheng is projecting. But he also can’t ignore the weight he feels as he wakes up and goes to sleep, the weightless burden of something missing from his life. Perhaps it’s the growing loneliness. Sicheng doesn’t contact his family much, nor does he spend a lot of time with his colleagues after school hours. 

It’s as peaceful as it is depressing.

It continues to rain every day, but the novelty of the town still hasn’t worn off. Sicheng still hasn’t seen all of it, didn’t get the chance to in between adjusting to his new house and teaching. Being so busy, Sicheng almost forgets that he’s supposed to cook for himself all the time from now on—and that when he checks his fridge and cupboards, they’re almost empty. 

That’s why he’s spending his Tuesday evening in the local supermarket, torn between buying minced beef or minced pork for dinner. With living alone again Sicheng realizes that he’s taken the split house chores for granted; he’s always had troubles with picking which ingredients to buy. He isn’t the greatest cook either. 

“The beef here is very good,” Sicheng hears someone say. 

He blinks. It’s Jaehyun. There’s a basket full of groceries in his hand. 

“Oh, good evening,” Sicheng says, a bit flustered. “Do you think so?”

Jaehyun gives him a nod. “It’s of the finest quality. Although, if you’re planning on making cutlets tonight I’d suggest you take both the minced pork and beef and mix them.”

Sicheng hadn’t considered cooking that at all, but there’s something about Jaehyun’s soft suggestion that makes him trust Jaehyun’s judgement. He raises his eyebrows in question but puts both of the minced meat into his basket nonetheless. “Thank you for the recommendation.”

Jaehyun gives him a smile, “You’re very welcome. Do have a good meal!” He then bows and proceeds to go to the self check out section before Sicheng even has a chance to say anything more. How uncharacteristic yet oddly fitting it is, Sicheng thinks, to so casually meet up in a supermarket on a Tuesday evening. Perhaps this is one of the charms of living in a small, tight-knit town. Besides a farmer’s market in the center, this is the only grocery store there is here. Sicheng only shakes his head to himself and heads to the aisle with spices.

It has stopped raining by the time Sicheng trudges home, shopping bags in both hands. The cutlets do turn out delicious like Jaehyun had said, and for a second Sicheng wishes there was someone beside him to share his cooking achievements.

It hits him like a crashing wave, the longing he has for Ten. It comes out of the blue, as if, but in reality it was suppressed deep down and locked away, now toppling over. 

He wonders if he misses Ten entirely or just the memories of him. They had broken off the engagement for a reason. It was mutual—Ten had honestly said that he felt like he was falling out to love; their relationship was stagnating and simmering down, and although Sicheng felt it too, he was adamant to try and make them work, as fruitless as it was. He supposes it's natural—for people to fall out of love, even if the hurt is anything but. 

He remembers the exact day when he and Ten were sitting on the opposite sides of their kitchen table, arms crossed and expressions stoic, as if strangers discussing a business proposal. They came to an agreement to end their engagement. 

“I will always love you,” Ten had said. “You know that.”

“I do,” Sicheng had replied, forcing down the burn in his eyes. “So will I.”

Ten took off his ring first. His hands were shaking. It was the first and last time he took it off ever since Sicheng got down on one knee in front of him nearly two years ago to put it on. Sicheng took off his ring next. His hands were shaking, too. He was thinking of how he and Ten met, how they started their relationship. It took them a long while for Sicheng to open up, it took them a long time to go from a friendship to something more, and then Sicheng fell so strongly and so deeply in love. What was a simple college romance turned into a long lasting relationship, and Sicheng was so sure Ten was the one for him. But Ten wasn’t.

Ten was smiling sadly as Sicheng put down his ring, but there was something more hopeful in his expression than in Sicheng’s own. Hope, maybe. Relief? Sicheng doesn’t remember. 

And maybe even if Sicheng doesn’t love Ten like that now like he once did, he still misses Ten and aches for him because before Ten was his partner, he was his close friend, and losing both a fiancé and a friend at once is a lot of pain. 

Them breaking things off shifted not only Sicheng’s axis but the axis around their friends as well. Their friend group split, with the exception of Kun, who was Sicheng’s roommate as well as Ten’s friend from college. It was awkward, unbearably so, Sicheng realized, when he and Ten couldn’t act close or openly in front of each other anymore. It was a fact that they couldn’t return to the way they were before, and maybe that was the fact that hurt Sicheng the most.

Sicheng would have lied if he said that Ten didn’t try, because Ten did—does—but the irrational and hurt part of Sicheng couldn’t bring himself to accept Ten’s offer to acquaintances once again, like many years ago when they first met through Kun in the college library when they used to be so much more. There was a clear barrier between them, an unpalatable tension visible to the naked eye. 

Months passed, but it was still awkward when Ten started going on dates again, it was so impossibly awkward knowing Ten was starting to move on that Sicheng felt the need to get out of the city as soon as possible. He didn’t care where to. He just wanted to get rid of the bitterness inside himself and start anew.

Sicheng is a logical person. He isn’t impulsive by any means. He thought about moving away for a long time, weighing the pros and cons in his head almost every day until he was set on his decision. He realized it’s what the best would be for both him and Ten, and even Kun, who was roped into their mess—for him to move away for a bit and to cool off. So when Sicheng came across a job posting in a town with a lighthouse, Sicheng didn’t think twice before sending out his resume. 

I’m retrospect, Sicheng thinks, he must’ve been very unfair. It wasn’t Ten’s fault they fell out of love, it wasn’t Ten’s fault Sicheng took the entire ordeal so close to heart, it wasn’t Ten’s fault Sicheng wasn’t willing to make amends and try and be friends again. 

Sicheng bites on the inside of his cheek, guilt overcoming his senses. His apology is long overdue. He unlocks his phone and dials Ten’s number.

“Ten, hello?”

—

It’s still raining by the time Sicheng sends his mail to his family from the post office. He watches raindrops fall as he opens his umbrella and hopes he won’t get drenched by the time he reaches his house. It’s not an extremely long walk, fifteen minutes maximum if he walks fast. Sicheng briefly wonders if he should just stay behind and wait for the rain to stop, but the dark clouds hang low in the sky with no possibility of dissipating. 

Sicheng looks at the puddles that have formed on the ground as he walks. Truthfully, even rainy days like these have their charm. They fill the town with a certain serenity and peacefulness; the streets are devoid of people and noisy children even if it’s midday. The sound of the raindrops falling is calming and lulling, and Sicheng almost feels like he’s in his own little world. 

The illusion doesn’t last long. When Sicheng tears his gaze away from the ground to look around and breathe in the freshness of the air he spots a figure across the street walking in the same direction. He squints his eyes a little and notices that the black trench coat the figure is wearing belongs to Jaehyun. 

How interesting it is, Sicheng thinks to himself, that he sees Jaehyun in the most random of places.

“Jaehyun!” he calls. “What are you doing without an umbrella? It’s pouring!”

Jaehyun turns his head to him at the noise in surprise. Sicheng jogs across the street and extends the umbrella so it covers them both. 

“Good afternoon,” Jaehyun says to him. He’s smiling lightly, polite as always. “I unfortunately forgot my umbrella at home today.”

“This can’t do,” Sicheng says, “you’re soaked to the skin. Are you heading back home right now?”

Jaehyun nods. 

“Then let's walk back together.” 

Sicheng’s umbrella is not the biggest. It can’t cover two people entirely, so Sicheng tilts it more in Jaehyun’s direction, as futile as it is, since there’s no strand on him that isn’t wet.

“Are you cold?” Sicheng can’t help but ask. Jaehyun shakes his head. He’s quiet today, not that talkative, although he isn’t talkative, really. His hair is plastered to his forehead, water rolling down in huge droplets down his face. Sicheng notices his eyes are a bit red rimmed, but it might be a trick of the eye. When he blinks, Jaehyun averts his gaze at their proximity, looks ahead. 

For a moment, Sicheng registers that the rain hitting his shoulder is warm. Sicheng turns his palm up to catch a few raindrops and notices that they’re hot, almost like tears. How peculiar, Sicheng thinks. He’s never noticed rain being this warm before. He presses himself closer to Jaehyun, and when their hands brush Sicheng says, “You’re freezing!”

Jaehyun laughs a little then. He has a nice laughter, Sicheng notices, it’s deep, even though the reason behind it is embarrassment and awkwardness. “I admit, maybe a little.”

Sicheng sees the roof of his house come into view. “You’re coming with me. Let me make you some tea.”

“I can’t possibly intrude,” Jaehyun says weakly in an attempt to protest.

“Nonsense,” Sicheng interjects, looping his arm with Jaehyun’s. “I can’t have you catch a cold.”

The conversation dies after that. Sicheng thinks of something to say to ease the atmosphere as he searches for his keys. “It’s quite a heavy downpour today,” he comments.

“Supposedly,” Jaehyun gazes at the clouds. “Do you like rainy days?”

“All weather is good weather,” Sicheng replies and Jaehyun smiles at him. Sicheng unlocks the front door and folds his umbrella, takes off his coat and unties his shoelaces. He helps Jaehyun out of his outer clothing and then tells him to wait in the foyer while he fetches a towel. 

“Let me give you a change of clothes as well,” Sicheng says after. “I’m pretty sure we’re the same size.”

“Please, don’t trouble yourself over me,” Jaehyun murmurs, yet he raises a hand to accept the towel, and Sicheng knows he won’t fight back anymore. He encourages Jaehyun to step inside, tells him he could change in the bathroom.

“Take a nice long bath,” he says, “and I’ll prepare some hot tea for you, is that alright?” 

“All right,” Jaehyun answers, the tips of his ears red. It must be from the cold, Sicheng thinks. 

Jaehyun leaves droplets of water on the floor as he makes way into the bathroom, but Sicheng doesn’t mind it. He turns on the electrical kettle and takes out two identical mugs from his cupboard, then finds biscuits in his pantry and cuts up some fruit just in case.

Jaehyun doesn’t take long. He sits down by the kitchen table a bit apprehensively, shoulders slouched. 

Sicheng asks him, “Green or black?”

“Black, please.”

“Sure thing. Sugar, no sugar?”

“Two teaspoons,” Jaehyun replies. Sicheng’s clothes on him fit him thankfully. Sicheng pours the tea and waits for it to cool down a bit. He glances at Jaehyun, notices Jaehyun already looking back at him. There’s something in his eyes, Sicheng can’t pinpoint exactly what, that’s so pretty, so sad. 

“I would like to thank you for your suggestion the other day,” Sicheng says, setting down the teas on the table. He offers Jaehyun some fruit, and Jaehyun plucks out a branch of grapes. 

“Oh, for the meat thing?” Jaehyun asks, cradling the mug. He must be still cold. “You don’t have to. It was nothing big.”

“Nonetheless,” Sicheng says. “The meal turned out very nice.”

“In that case, I’m glad,” Jaehyun says, smiling. 

“I’d like to thank you for your hospitality as well,” Sicheng adds. “You didn’t have to give me a tour of the lighthouse, but I’m thankful you did.”

Jaehyun looks mildly embarrassed, instantly his cheeks twinge read. “It was my pleasure.”

Sicheng puts a hand on his chin, feeling himself smile. “Tell me more about yourself.” 

“Myself?”

Sicheng nods. “Truthfully, I’d like to get to know you better.”

Jaehyun’s expression is of amusement. “I would like to say that the feeling is mutual.”

Sicheng’s smile turns into a grin, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He takes a sip of his tea. It’s still too hot for his liking, a bit too bitter for his liking. “So, Jaehyun, what do you do?”

“Unofficially, I’m a lighthouse keeper,” Jaehyun explains. “Have been maintaining it since sometime last year. And you’re a teacher, right? What do you teach?”

“Maths,” Sicheng replies. He studies Jaehyun’s expression. It’s always interesting to see how people react to his profession: some widen their eyes, some express surprise, but Jaehyun only smiles.

“How nice,” he says, “I always loved maths.”

“Were you born here?” Sicheng then asks.

Jaehyun nods, “I’ve been to neighbouring towns only once or twice when I was little.”

Sicheng can tell that by the way Jaehyun carries himself; it’s his aura—that shows that he grew up beside a coastal town. His hair is endlessly wavy from the salty air and he smells faintly of the sea, as if he’s an extension of it roaming around freely on land. Sicheng has to avert his gaze. 

It’s not that Sicheng hasn’t noticed Jaehyun is attractive, it’s that it’s his first time seeing Jaehyun so up close. 

Sicheng clears his throat, “Would you tell me why you were walking under the rain?” 

“Forgot my umbrella,” Jaehyun repeats himself, scratching the back of his neck. He looks evidently tired, and his eyes are still slightly red rimmed. 

“Bad day?” Sicheng asks him kindly. He hears the rain falling slowly outside. The downpour is not as intense as it was an hour before.

“You could say that,” Jaehyun laughs.

“Want to talk about it?” Sicheng suggests. 

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Tell me about your day instead.”

Sicheng says, “Well, I talked to my ex-fiancé for the first time in months and sent a letter to my family. Then I pretty much found you under the rain.”

“You were engaged?” Jaehyun’s eyes widen slightly. 

“Surprising, right?” Sicheng laughs. “But yeah, I was supposed to get married sometime around this month, actually.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Sicheng briefly thinks how autumn weddings were his favourite but instead says, “Don’t be, it’s in the past now.”

“How,” Jaehyun asks unsurely, “did the talk go?”

“Pretty awkward,” Sicheng replies truthfully, “but I think we talked things out, so that was nice.”

Ten had picked up his call on the fourth ring, and he was quite surprised to hear from Sicheng again. He sounded excited though, as he always does; asked about Sicheng’s life and job casually, naturally, as if he wasn’t being ghosted for a good two months. 

Sicheng had apologized for his behaviour, but Ten told him to not be stupid and said that no grudges were ever held against him. He had expressed that he missed Sicheng and made him promise to meet him and Kun for New Years—and Sicheng couldn’t have disagreed. 

The talk was awkward, but it was equally liberating, in a way. Sicheng felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in months, like he didn’t have a knot in his chest anymore, at least not as tight as prior. 

During the hour they had talked, Sicheng realized just how much he had missed Ten being in his life. It’s weird, to have someone so close for so long and then to have them so far away. But at the same time Sicheng couldn’t imagine having Ten in the same romantic way again. When he put the phone down, he wondered what had changed, why had it changed so fast. He briefly thought of brown hair and sad eyes.

“That’s good to hear,” Jaehyun says. 

Sicheng snaps out of his reverie. “Yeah,” he smiles. “I guess it is.”

“Do you miss them?” Jaehyun asks. 

“A little,” Sicheng answers, “we were good friends before all the mess after all.”

“Then how about the city? Do you miss home?”

That question makes Sicheng think. “I don’t really have a home back in the city anymore,” he says. “My parents live in a different country, and well, ever since I moved out from my ex-fiancé’s I felt like I didn’t belong in the city—with him—anymore.”

Jaehyun gives him an understanding look. His eyes are so expressive, Sicheng thinks for a moment. He’s never seen eyes so full of raw emotion, so pure and wide. He’s never met anyone like Jaehyun. “What about here?” Jaehyun tilts his head slightly, curiosity in his voice, maybe even a little bit of hopefulness. “Do you feel like you belong here?”

Little towns are always a tight knit community, Sicheng has heard ever since he was young. They usually allow no outsiders to integrate with them, but this is no usual town. This town, with its constant gloom and endless rain, has welcomed Sicheng despite all odds, and Sicheng quite frankly likes it here. He enjoys the nature, the alluring fresh smell of the air after it had rained, he likes the architecture, he likes his school and his students, he gets along with his colleagues well. 

“Maybe,” Sicheng answers, thinking about how he likes Jaehyun a little bit, too. 

—

The Sun rises later and later with each day, and  
before Sicheng realizes, it’s already November.  
Novembers for him are months where the trees are already bare and the ground is cold, layered with a thin blanket of fresh snow, however here it still only rains. 

It’s not as cold as back home, though. The temperature doesn't drop below zero centigrade, but because of it raining so often it’s rather chilly. As Sicheng locks his house to head to work in the early morning, the sky is still dark outside. He looks up. There’s something about it raining so early constantly that’s somewhat startling. He furrows his brows when a raindrop hits the top of his head. 

There’s a weird feeling in his chest that started blooming recently. What was a once passing curious thought about the nature of the weather, somehow stuck in Sicheng’s mind and started growing. In retrospect, all of this is so unnatural—the rains, the storms, no sunshine, nothing else and nothing more. It’s unnatural the way the people of this town simply accept the state of the weather and don’t do anything about it. Recently, it started making Sicheng’s skin crawl. 

It’s not like he minds the rain or anything. His patience hasn’t worn thin even despite his job occupation, but even then, as someone who spends days teaching how to add two and two together he can say that the weather just doesn’t add up.

“Don’t you think it raining constantly is strange?” Sicheng asks Yuta during a break in between classes. 

“A little,” Yuta shrugs, “but you kind of get used to it. Why?” 

“I’ve just been thinking about how bizarre it is to actually never see the Sun.”

“Right?” Yuta says, a phone in his hand, probably texting Taeyong even though they’re in the same building. “I miss seeing blue skies. It’s been ages.” 

“Don’t tell me no one actually knows why it keeps raining this much.”

“They don’t, not really,” Yuta frowns at that. “I mean, when the rains first started, it was all over the news. I think it was broadcasted all the way to the city. Reporters and scientists all flocked over to see what’s going on here, but after several days of storms they couldn't take it anymore. Then, after several months the issue kind of died down. Now people just either move out or endure it.”

Sicheng doesn’t watch television, but he remembers that Ten does. Ten might have brought it up in a passing conversation one day, now that Sicheng thinks hard about it, saying something about this one town where it started raining for no reason. 

“There must be a reason,” Sicheng concludes. 

“If you say so,” Yuta answers. Then, “Say, Taeyong and I are planning to go to a bar tonight, want to come with?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sicheng replies. It has been a while since he went out anywhere, and as much as he doesn’t want to third-wheel, he’s a bit touched that Yuta and Taeyong consider him as someone more than a mere colleague to ask him to spend a Friday evening with them. 

“Great,” Yuta says. “I’ll text you the address in a bit. Let’s meet up at seven, yeah?

The upside to living in a small town is that everything is close together. The downside, though, is that it’s raining violently today as well. Sicheng is half exhausted from dealing with grading quizzes after he’d come home from the school in order to save time, and now trying to navigate through the dark streets in the bad weather is making him high strung. He suddenly craves a drink. 

The bar is not like what he initially expected. It’s a cozy, dimly lit space, rather small in size and quite modest in interior. It looks like a regular restaurant, if anything. When Sicheng arrives, a little late and shoulders wet because of his small umbrella, Yuta and Taeyong are already there. They’re dressed casually, seemingly to be in good spirits. Sicheng hasn't seen them out of their work wear ever since that little get together they had organized before the semester began when Sicheng first started working at the school, and now it’s been almost three months. A bottle of red wine is already on the white-clothed table.

“A friend of mine owns this place,” Yuta explains with a grin. “Hence the complimentary wine.”

The evening goes by rather well. Sicheng listens to the couple talk about their wedding preparations for the near future, and feels the need to order something stronger. Two whiskeys later, he’s almost stumbling out of the bar, bidding Taeyong and Yuta a safe evening, and trudges through the puddles back. Only he ends up somewhere else.

Sicheng has to blink. The lighthouse comes into view. The rain lessened considerably, now only a slight drizzle. Sicheng lowers his umbrella. The lighthouse looks gorgeous despite the darkness. There’s a beacon of light coming out of the lantern room. Sicheng wonders which boats must be passing through at this hour, wonders if Jaehyun is up there somewhere. 

As if on cue, he sees Jaehyun step out onto the balcony. 

“Sicheng!” Jaehyun calls, spotting him instantly. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

Sicheng shrugs, craning his head up to look at Jaehyun. He says a bit loudly, “I don’t know. I’m cold.”

“Are you perhaps drunk?” 

“Only tipsy,” Sicheng admits. 

“Come inside,” Jaehyun says then, “the door is unlocked.”

Sicheng opens the door with a creak, and sees Jaehyun come down the stairs. He’s wearing jeans and a fluffy turtleneck, and his cheeks are twinged pink from the cold air.

“Good evening,” Jaehyun says with a laugh. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Me neither, honestly,” Sicheng says. “I don’t know what brought me here.”

Jaehyun touches his hand as a familiar gesture. “You’re freezing.”

“The walk from the bar to here isn’t exactly the shortest one.”

Jaehyun frowns. “You should’ve gone home.”

Sicheng sighs. “Didn’t want to. Didn’t want to be alone right now.” 

“That’s okay,” Jaehyun says. His voice is gentle. “Can you walk up the stairs? I’ll sit you down on a couch and get you something to warm you up.”

“I might have to hold onto you for that.”

“I don’t mind,” Jaehyun smiles. “Come on.”

It proves to be a struggle walking up a spiral staircase while having the ground spin at the same time. Sicheng grips Jaehyun’s arm in a way that’s too familiar, but Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, only lets Sicheng lean into him for better support. 

“Sorry for showing up at this state and so late,” Sicheng mumbles, “that’s unprofessional of me.”

“You’re not at work, you’re all good,” Jaehyun tells him. Sicheng gets seated down on a soft couch. Feels his drenched coat getting taken off and being replaced with a blanket put over his shoulders. Hears the whistling of a kettle somewhere nearby. His vision is a little fuzzy. 

“You’re up late,” Sicheng says. It must be around midnight or so. 

“You could say I’m the one at work here,” Jaehyun says. He hands Sicheng a mug of tea. “Drink up.”

“Thank you,” Sicheng says, inhaling the sweet aroma of the tea. 

Jaehyun sits down next to him, close, so that their knees touch. “Want to talk about why you don’t want to be alone?” 

“My colleagues were talking about their upcoming wedding today,” Sicheng begins, the words falling off his tongue before he can stop and control them, “and for whatever reason it made me think of my own failed marriage. Made me think how a year ago I was looking for a wedding suit, and a year later I’m here, in a house too big for one, alone.”

Jaehyun hums thoughtfully, “I suppose it’s hard to move on from a mindset like that.” 

“It is,” Sicheng says, hands cradling the mug, basking in the warmth. “Ah, alcohol really made me emotional today,” he says with a laugh, “I promise I’m not always like this.”

“You should see me when I’m drunk,” Jaehyun says, a smile on his face, “I simply cry.” 

Crashing of waves can be heard from the outside. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Sicheng says thoughtfully. 

“Maybe so,” Jaehyun says. There’s something melancholic in the way he says it. Silence falls over them after that, not uncomfortable but a little serious at the same time. Sicheng studies Jaehyun’s peaceful expression, although somehow it doesn’t look peaceful at all. Jaehyun looks troubled behind his ever-calm eyes, but Sicheng feels like it isn’t his place to ask what’s wrong. 

“You’re really interesting, Jaehyun,” Sicheng decides to say. Jaehyun’s melancholy morphs into mild surprise, eyebrows half raised, lips half quirked up. 

“Do you think so?”

“Maintaining a lighthouse, serving drunk strangers tea at twelve at night. That’s pretty interesting to me.” 

Jaehyun rests his cheek on his hand, “To me, you’re the interesting one here. Moving to a town where it always rains, giving soaked strangers a change of clothes…”

Sicheng laughs. “No, you’re good company. I think I’m sober now.” He stands up, but stumbles a bit. “Maybe not.”

Jaehyun helps Sicheng keep balance. “Only tipsy, huh?”

“Shush,” Sicheng says. “Help me to the lantern room?”

Sicheng feels the warmth of Jaehyun’s hand hovering over his waist but not quite touching as they walk up the stairs, The ground is spinning considerably much less and by now Sicheng only feels a twinge of pleasantness in his bones. 

The beacon in the lantern room is very bright. It seems to stretch out far away into the distance, as if into nothingness. It’s so dark, Sicheng can’t see where the sky ends and the sea begins. 

“How magnificent,” Sicheng says. “Do you do this every day?”

“Pretty much when the weather is bad, yeah.”

“Doesn't it get lonely?”

“A little,” Jaehyun says. Probably a lot, Sicheng guesses. He can read Jaehyun’s eyes like an open book by now.

“Everyone is lonely,” Sicheng hums. “Maybe some less than others, but still lonely.” 

“Perhaps,” Jaehyun replies, voice calm like the waves. There’s a resemblance of a smile on his face, but for the reason behind it, Sicheng doesn’t know. What he does know, though, is that Jaehyun has a pretty smile. He realizes he’s standing too close.

He moves back a little, says, “I want to go out to the balcony.”

“It’s called a gallery deck, actually,” Jaehyun corrects. “And I’d rather you didn't, it’s too cold.”

“I have the blanket with me, don’t I?” Sicheng retorts. “You’re rather warm yourself, too.”

“Let’s go out only for a little while,” Jaehyun suggests. “I can't have you get sick.” 

“Using my words against me, aren’t you?”

Jaehyun laughs, “Come on now.”

As they step outside, Sicheng is met with a gust of wind. He curls his fingers tighter around the blanket over his shoulders, presses himself closer to Jaehyun’s side. He is indeed warm, Sicheng notices, in an almost comforting way. 

Sicheng hears the waves, hears some passerby talking on their phone quietly. It’s a peaceful night. Then he looks at the sea, and notices a reflection of something white mirrored in the water. He lifts his gaze up and his breath hitches. 

“Jaehyun,” Sicheng calls, “look, I can see the moon. It’s so bright.” 

“It certainly is,” Jaehyun replies quietly.

“I’ve never seen the clouds disperse even just a little during my stay here so far,” Sicheng continues. “The moon is so big, so pretty.”

The thick layer of clouds seemed to have  
He turns his head to glance at Jaehyun when he gets no answer and sees Jaehyun is glowing silver in the rare moonlight. His eyes twinkle with the reflection of the stars. When the wind blows harder, Sicheng shuffles closer, drapes the blanket over Jaehyun’s shoulders as well, and hears the erratic thumping of Jaehyun’s heart. 

It’s a couple of minutes of silence of them standing right under the moon, until Sicheng feels numbness spread throughout his body from the cold and asks, “I should get going. It’s late.”

“You could stay here,” Jaehyun offers, “if you still feel like not being alone.”

Sicheng feels his own heart beat fast. “No, it’s alright. But I would appreciate if you'd walk me back.”

“I’d love to,” Jaehyun offers without any hesitation. He glances to see if there are no boats or ships anywhere in sight over the horizon, then quickly grabs his coat while Sicheng puts on his own; it has mostly dried from when Jaehyun had put it over a radiator a while ago. 

It’s a rather shorter walk to his house than Sicheng would have liked it to be. He and Jaehyun walk side by side, not engaging in any meaningless conversation, but words are not needed for Sicheng to feel oddly comfortable. At the doorstep, Sicheng bids him a good night.

“Thank you for tonight,” he says, reaching out for Jaehyun’s hand. Jaehyun gives him a smile as he squeezes their hands. 

“You’re most welcome,” he says. “Sweet dreams, Sicheng.”

Sicheng feels the warmth on his hand even after Jaehyun pulls away and wonders if this means anything, if this could mean anything, if he wants it to mean anything. 

The moon shines bright.


	2. Chapter 2

“So you’re telling me it hasn’t snowed even once?” Kun asks him on the other end of the line.

“Not even one snowflake,” Sicheng answers. It’s the very beginning of winter, and prior to their phone call Kun had sent him pictures of the outside of his window being covered in snow, boasting and complaining about the winter fairy tale they were having in the same sentence. Winter fairytales never last long in the city, by the next day snow will turn to mush. Even then, Sicheng misses the snow and the mush. Sicheng has missed talking to Kun. 

“How peculiar. Does it still rain?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty much the same always.”

“I don’t even know what’s worse,” Kun says, thoughtfulness in his voice, “rain or snow.”

“A downpour when you are stuck outside,” Sicheng sighs. “Or storms so loud they wake you up.”

“Ouch,” Kun says, wincing. “I’ll take the snow, in that case.”

“Hearing you complain to me about the weather is rather amusing to me,” Sicheng says. 

“Isn’t it driving you crazy though? All of the rain? It’s a miracle the town isn’t flooded.”

Sicheng laughs, “I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s something about this rain that isn’t right. It’s different.”

“What do you mean?” Kun’s voice is muffled. It sounds like he’s shuffling for something in the kitchen pantry. 

“Recently I’ve started keeping a log of every time it rains,” Sicheng begins, “because there is just no way it’s normal for it to rain this much.”

“Carry on.” Sicheng hears a knife cutting something and then sounds of sizzling. 

“I did it out of plain curiosity, but I actually noticed there's some sort of cycle.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Sicheng says. “It rains the hardest towards the evening, kind of stops around nighttime, then in the morning it begins to rain again. When it’s just cloudy, then it doesn’t rain for two or three days maybe. I don’t know, this might not make much sense right now, but I swear there’s a pattern.”

“Not really,” Kun agrees. “But I don’t quite understand what you’re implying.” 

“I’m not implying anything, these are just observations.” Sicheng takes off his glasses, puts them away into their case, then says, ”I feel like I should look into meteorology or something.”

“Because teaching gives you so much free time, huh?” Kun jokes. “I understand that you may be curious, but you could be just overthinking.”

“Could be,” Sicheng murmurs. “Also,” he adds as an afterthought, “I talked to Ten a while back, but he must’ve already told you about it.”

“He did,” Kun hums, “but I was waiting for you to bring it up yourself. How do you feel?”

“I miss him,” Sicheng says truthfully. “I hope he’s well.”

“He’s doing good. Got a promotion, an offer to an overseas branch,” Kun says. 

“Is that so?”

He hears Kun sigh deeply, “He’ll move countries, too. After New Year’s, I believe. First you, now him. Now it’s just me left here all alone. I miss you guys.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Sicheng says, “it’s not like I’m far away.”

“You’re not, but yet you’ve never visited me once.” 

“You know how work is,” Sicheng reclines in his chair. “The end of the semester is approaching; it’s Hell.”

“You should visit me during the holidays,” Kun insists. 

“I promised Ten just as much,” Sicheng says. “By the time I come back you'd better have found yourself a partner.”

Kun laughs, “I’m getting old, aren’t I?”

“We all are.”

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence, before Kun asks, “Have you found anyone?” 

“No,” Sicheng answers, resisting to bite on the inside of his cheek, “why?”

“Just wondering,” Kun responds, “perhaps this town of yours has a charming young man in it that is also coincidentally into men.”

Sicheng lets out a laugh. “I should move on, shouldn’t I?”

“You really should,” Kun says, “and I say this as both yours and Ten’s friend. It’s been, what, half a year? If not more. I know you both had big plans for the future, but it’s time to let him go. Find someone who will be the one for you.”

“I had thought Ten was the one for me,” Sicheng says quietly. 

“I know, Sicheng, I really do,” Kun says. “But let's face it, he isn’t. However, someone else might be.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Sicheng knows Kun is right. Unknowingly or not, Sicheng has already let go of Ten some time ago, perhaps ever since the day he stumbled upon the lighthouse. “Perhaps there is someone out there for me.”

—

Sicheng is walking back home from the school with his umbrella open when he notices someone standing in front of his door. 

“Jaehyun?” he calls out.

Jaehyun turns to him in surprise. “Oh, Sicheng, good evening.”

“Is something the matter?”

“Oh, not at all, I just figured that I should return the clothes you’ve lent me all those weeks ago,” Jaehyun gestures to the bag in his hands. “It was long overdue.”

“That’s—that’s not a problem,” Sicheng says, “they suit you better either way. But please do come in. It’s too cold to be standing out there.” 

“I am a little cold,” Jaehyun says. “It is December after all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re freezing yourself on purpose,” Sicheng jokes. 

Jaehyun’s smile is wide, “In that case, your timing is impeccable.” 

“You’re quite the flirt,” Sicheng says, taking the bag from Jaehyun and unlocking the door. “Come inside.”

It feels like a routine at this point, Sicheng thinks as he turns on the kettle and cuts some fruit while Jaehyun sits down by the kitchen table. It feels like something Sicheng wants to witness every day after work, for reasons he doesn’t know why. 

“Two spoonfuls of sugar?” he asks.

“Yeah. Please,” Jaehyun says meekly.

It’s a thought that wouldn’t leave Sicheng’s mind lately. This house is too big for one, too suffocating. With Jaehyun in it, it feels smaller, cozier. Sicheng makes the tea and asks over his shoulder, “Are you hungry?”

“I wouldn’t want to burden you…”

“Jaehyun,” Sicheng says with a fond sigh, “no need to be so polite. Yes or no?” 

It’s the way Jaehyun’s ears give him away every single time without fail. He agrees, and Sicheng quickly whips up a meal, asking about Jaehyun’s day in the process. Sicheng isn’t the greatest at keeping conversations going, but somehow it’s easy to talk with Jaehyun, easier than with anyone he’s met. 

He sets the dinner on the table, sits across from Jaehyun, again thinks about how nice it would be to cook for Jaehyun, to have Jaehyun sit across from him every day, so simply and easily like this. How nice it would be to eat early dinner together with the television as background noise every evening just like now. 

“Oh, it stopped raining,” Sicheng comments in between the conversation. “How nice.”

“Mhm,” Jaehyun hums, not even looking out of the window. “Your cooking is very good.”

“Is it?” Sicheng asks. “I really am not the best… though I do think I’m getting better.” 

“I haven’t eaten a home cooked meal by someone in a long time,” Jaehyun says. Sicheng doesn’t know what to think of those words, he doesn’t know what Jaehyun is implying. Sometimes Jaehyun is so easy to read, sometimes so impossibly difficult.

“You’re always free to come over, if you’d like,” Sicheng says. “This house is open for you at any time.”

“Thank you,” Jaehyun says. “You’re very kind.”

“Only for you,” Sicheng grins. Jaehyun flashes him a smile, and it’s a little shy, a little somber. There is something melancholic swimming in Jaehyun’s eyes still, but Sicheng is still afraid to pry. There’s something hopeful in Jaehyun’s eyes too, though, perhaps in the way he doesn’t take them off Sicheng throughout the evening, or in the way they crinkle ever so slightly when Sicheng cracks an unfunny joke or when Sicheng rambles too much about his students. The melancholy in them seems to fade away, as if. Replaces itself with gentleness. 

Sicheng can’t bring himself to think too much into it. 

It’s an hour after Jaehyun says he has some things to tend to that Sicheng sees him off at the doorstep. He bids Jaehyun a goodbye with a warm feeling in his chest—something he experiences every time he and Jaehyun meet, wondering if Jaehyun feels the warmth too, and when he looks at the sky, he notices the clouds have dispersed, and through the cracks he can see the remnants of a colourful sunset. 

—

“Yesterday feels like a fever dream,” Taeyong says, sipping on his morning coffee. He ventured into Sicheng’s classroom to say hi while the kids were on break. 

“You don’t say,” Sicheng muses, cheek resting on his hand, shoulders tense from the stress of upcoming exams, “I couldn’t believe my eyes. I spent the entire day taking pictures.”

“So did Yuta and I. We must have all gone insane, I mean it wasn’t even a clear sky,” Taeyong laughs. “It’s a shame it’s cloudy again.”

“It was a beautiful day,” Sicheng says. 

“It was indeed. You know, ever since you moved here the weather has not been quite as bad. It’s been getting better, actually.”

“It rains practically nonstop,” Sicheng raises an eyebrow. 

Taeyong shakes his head, “It used to be worse. It rained so hard the streets were flooded, it stormed for weeks at a time, but now—now the rain is less heavy, now the Sun even came out. I don’t know Sicheng, I think you may be our lucky charm.”

Sicheng scratches the back of his head, “I think it’s a pure coincidence.”

Taeyong shrugs, “You never know. I’d like to believe it, though.”

Sicheng gives him a smile. He listens to the clock on the wall tick slowly. It rains softly outside.

“Oh!” Taeyong says, “by the way, yesterday Yuta saw you around Jaehyun. I didn’t know you two were close!”

“We aren’t, really,” Sicheng says. “We just see each other sometimes.” 

“It’s good to see that you’re socializing outside of the students, and it’s good to see Jaehyun out of his shell again,” Taeyong sighs. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I don’t know the exact details, but Jaehyun has been pretty closed off ever since his parents passed.”

“Oh.” 

“They were lovely people,” Taeyong says. “His father was a sailor, i think, and his mother was a very beautiful woman. My parents used to know them. It’s a shame, really, I think it’s been around a year already.” 

“Oh…I don’t even know what to say.”

Taeyong laughs, “Don’t worry. It’s a bit of a heavy topic. No one really knows what happened, and I’m not close to Jaehyun, so I don’t know much either.”

Sicheng stares at his clenched fists, an emotion he can’t exactly pinpoint crashing over him like a sudden wave. He swallows the feeling down; the sadness in Jaehyun’s eyes appears at the back of his mind. 

“So it is really nice to see you being Jaehyun’s company. He’s really nice,” Taeyong says.

“He really is,” Sicheng finds himself sighing. 

The bell rings after a while, and Taeyong stands up from where he was sitting and says, “I’ll see you soon then, alright?”

“Take care,” Sicheng replies with a nod. His students trail in one by one to the room, greeting him politely and slumping over their desks. Slow thuds and rustling of pages fills the room as they take out their textbooks from their backpacks. It’s nearing four in the evening; it’s the last class for the day and the sky is already darkening outside. 

“Let’s continue revising for the exam,” Sicheng puts on a sympathetic smile at the sight of their tired faces, “shall we?”

He goes over the material they studied throughout the semester, and while talking about logarithms, he briefly thinks how incredibly fast the semester has gone by. After class a few students stay behind to ask for extra help for the exam, and he goes over several practice questions with them until they’ve grasped the material fully and make no mistakes while solving problems. It’s tiring, but the feeling of accomplishment his students show when they’ve understood something is what he loves most about being a teacher. 

“Thank you, Mr. Dong, have a good evening,” the last student in the class says as he closes his backpack and exits the classroom. Sicheng gives him a wave, then sits back on his desk. He exhales deeply. 

He watches the rain outside pitter patter softly for a while, lost in thought. He thinks—about this warm winter, about all the papers he will have to grade, about having to prepare to go back home for the holidays, about what Taeyong said. He blinks the growing uneasy feeling in his chest again. 

He doesn’t know why, but the pain he feels for Jaehyun is suffocating. 

Sicheng hastily stands up, grabs his coat and locks the classroom. He quickly steps outside, thankful to be alone, and the rain that washes over him is almost like relief. Sicheng thinks about Jaehyun, lonely and alone in his beautiful lighthouse, with no one to grieve over his parents, with no shoulder to lean or cry on, and doesn’t know if it’s the rain streaming down his face unevenly or his tears. He walks to the main entrance, and sees someone standing by the gates. 

He would’ve walked past them, if not for a deep, “Sicheng?”

“Jaehyun?” Sicheng pauses, blinks the rain from his eyes away. “What are you doing here?”

It’s an almost identical scenario to how they met months before, only now the roles are reversed. Sicheng is the one soaking wet and Jaehyun is the one pulling him by the waist under his umbrella. 

“You’re drenched,” Jaehyun states. His brows are furrowed and his expression is full of concern. Sicheng averts his gaze when a warm hand comes up to cradle his cheek. “You’re crying.”

“What are you doing here?” Sicheng repeats. He doesn’t dare remove Jaehyun’s hand from his face. It’s all too tender. 

“I wanted to see you,” Jasehyun says quietly, shyly, almost. “I figured you’d still be at the school.”

Sicheng finds himself chuckling, “It’s been a day…”

“I know,” Jaehyun says, “but I still wanted to see you, so badly.” He runs his thumb over the expanse of Sicheng’s wet cheek, “Would you tell me why you’re crying?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. I’m sorry,” he wipes his tears with the back of his hands. His heart skips a beat against his will. He can’t possibly tell Jaehyun he’s crying for him. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“How can I not worry?” Jaehyun asks, and his voice is so genuine, so raw and full of emotion that it hurts. 

Sicheng shakes his head, “Ah, honestly you’re the one who is kind here.”

“What do you say I treat you to dinner?” Jaehyun suggests, a smile tugging at his lips. It’s polite, it’s hopeful. “There’s this really nice place downtown… I think you’ll like it, it has a gorgeous view over the sea.”

“Your treat?”

“Of course,” Jaehyun removes his hand from Sicheng’s cheek, only to loop it around his arm instead. “And you could tell me what’s on your mind, or you could tell me nothing at all.”

It gradually stops raining by the time they reach the restaurant Jaehyun talked about. First it simmers, then it stops completely when Jaehyun buys Sicheng a drink and when Sicheng feels himself getting relaxed. Jaehyun doesn’t ask about what happened by the school gates, doesn’t mention Sicheng’s tears, and Sicheng doesn’t mention that he knows about his parents, even if he desperately wants to ask about them.

“You know,” Sicheng says, changing the topic of the conversation, “there’s something about the rain here that is so strange…”

“Really?” Jaehyun asks. His face is illuminated by the dim yellow lights of the restaurant, almost like a glow. He looks golden, is Sicheng’s first thought. He looks unreal. “Why do you think so?”

“Well,” Sicheng tries his best to formulate his thoughts. “It rains so often, but sometimes it just… stops. Like now. It’s not the first time it has been like that… It’s most likely just a coincidence though, but I can’t help but notice it.”

When he turns his head to look at Jaehyun, he finds him smiling in that fond way of his, but also red in the face. It could be from the alcohol, Sicheng thinks, but it’s very unusual for Jaehyun to be so flustered. 

“Is that so?” Jaehyun says then, his smile turning timid and averting his gaze, “I haven’t really noticed.”

Sicheng shrugs, but his eyes linger on the side of Jaehyun’s face, his cheekbone, jawline, dimple. The tips of his ears are like cherries. “I’ve been keeping track of every time it rains, but it still doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Maybe the weather likes your company,” Jaehyun says. “It could be just as simple as that.”

Sicheng laughs. “That would be amazing.” He takes another sip of the wine and asks, “What will you be doing for the holidays?” 

“I’ll be here, maintaining the lighthouse,” Jaehyun replies. “Nothing amusing. And you?”

“I was planning to go back to the city,” Sicheng says.

Jaehyun gives him a smile, “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

Sicheng thinks about how Jaehyun would be alone in that lighthouse of his. He can’t stop thinking about it, not even for a second. He thinks how lonely it must be. How utterly and completely lonely. He bites on his inner cheek and says, “However, if you would want me to stay, I would.”

“Sicheng,” Jaehyun takes a hold of Sicheng’s hand for a second too short, “I can’t keep you here. You should go. You must miss your family, your friends. Don’t you?”

“I do,” Sicheng replies. 

“Then go.” Jaehyun sounds calm, but there’s a flicker in his eyes. Sicheng can’t pinpoint whether it’s sadness or whether he’s been reading Jaehyun’s emotions wrong.

“But I’m afraid,” Sicheng admits, “that I might miss you much more.” 

“Sicheng…” Jaehyun whispers. Something swims in his eyes. His voice is barely a whisper. “You can’t say things like that.” 

Sicheng is about to retaliate, however he notices rapid motion from outside the window. He watches as the clouds push and pull back together before they disperse into nothing, clearing the sky, showing the stars. Sicheng parts his lips in awe. 

“Did you see that?” He looks at Jaehyun. “The clouds did it again. They parted. It happened so suddenly, so quickly…”

Jaehyun doesn’t say much, but there is a hint of a smile lingering on his lips. He pours more wine for Sicheng and himself. “I did.”

“You weren’t looking,” Sicheng quirks a brow.

“How can you be so sure?” Jaehyun asks. He raises the wine glass to his lips. After he takes a sip, they taint red. 

“From my periphery. I noticed that you weren’t.” Sicheng involuntarily drops his gaze to Jaehyun’s lips. He licks over his own.

“I saw it in the reflection of your eyes,” Jaehyun answers, holding his gaze. There’s a moment of tension, until Jaehyun blinks and leans back, and then asks, “When do you leave?”

Sicheng snaps his gaze back up. “On the twentieth,” he replies.

“For how long?” 

“Two weeks.”

“Those would be a treacherously long two weeks,” Jaehyun says, and Sicheng realizes that Jaehyun maybe, just maybe, might miss him just as much.

He wants to act on his growing feelings, desperately so. “Come with me?” he suggests. “You said you’ve never been to the city. I could show you around, introduce you to my friends. I think you’ll like it.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen. His lips part, then curl into a frown. “I’d love to—but I can’t. There’s the lighthouse, and then there’s…” Jaehyun mumbles and leaves the sentence hanging. His ears are red again and he looks genuinely apologetic. He looks a little lost, so Sicheng puts a hand over his. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Sicheng says. “I understand. It’s okay. It was too rash of me to ask on such a short notice.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “If I could go with you, I’d go in an instant.” 

There it is again, the rumble in Sicheng’s heart. Maybe it’s the way Jaehyun says it, maybe it’s the way he connects their palms and interlaces their fingers together for a split second, or maybe just him in general, but Sicheng feels like he’s burning all over. He glances at his wristwatch. “It’s getting late,” Sicheng murmurs, clearing his throat. “I should probably get going.”

Jaehyun nods, “It is quite late.” 

“But I suppose I could take a detour around the lighthouse,” Sicheng says.

“Are you implying you’ll walk me back?” Jaehyun laughs lightly. “What a gentleman you are.”

“It’s only right I do so,” Sicheng replies. There’s warmth, so much warmth in his body. “You treated me to dinner.”

“I felt like you needed a break from whatever your thoughts were earlier today,” Jaehyun says. “It was no problem.”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” Sicheng scratches the back of his neck, still embarrassed, “but I am very glad you came by.”

Sicheng gets their coats from a nearby hanger, walks with Jaehyun step in step until the lighthouse. Jaehyun fills in the quietness of the night with a light conversation, and there’s something about his demeanor that’s so unusually joyful. It’s like he glows in the moonlight, it’s like his eyes shine. Sicheng’s eyes involuntarily linger on him for longer than necessary, and only after he says goodbye does he realize that it’s the first time he saw Jaehyun look so happy. 

—

Sicheng would be lying if he said it would be okay for Jaehyun to not see him off at the train station, but he figures it would be for the best. As much as Sicheng is reluctant to go back to the city, Jaehyun said he couldn’t hold him back only for him. The issue is—it’s not just because of Jaehyun. It’s the inevitable confrontation with Ten, it’s the feeling of returning back to a familiar place, realizing that things there are not the same anymore. It’s human nature, for people to change, however it makes the prospect of returning only more frightening. The more Sicheng thinks about it, the more he wants to back away and stay in this town.

It’s funny, in the sense that he should feel homesick, he should be sick of the rain. And it’s funny, because he honestly isn’t. The rain feels comforting more often than not, the grey skies feel like coffee foam and Sicheng would choose that any day over mush and dirty snow. 

Before his departure, Sicheng and Jaehyun exchanged numbers. Now that Sicheng thinks about it, it seems like they should've done that long ago, some time maybe on their second or third meeting, but with Jaehyun, things have always been kind of slowed down, not rushed. Sicheng almost thought that Jaehyun didn’t have a phone, so it came off as a pleasant surprise when Jaehyun subtly asked for his number at the last minute. It was phrased as an open question, but Sicheng caught on and simply gave Jaehyun his phone. 

He had texted Jaehyun the following evening, told him about the last day of school, how his students organized a little get together right in the classroom, mentioned how he’s almost packed for the train. 

Jaehyun has a peculiar way of texting, Sicheng notices: formal, but in all lower cases. He uses plain emojis and doesn’t understand memes, but it’s all so heartwarming and endearing, Sicheng can’t help but smile a little to himself at every of Jaehyun’s messages. He texts like he speaks, polite, a little aloof, a little serious. 

Jaehyun’s _i’ll miss you_ tugs at one of Sicheng’s heartstrings during the ride. It's several hours in an empty train spent sleeping or staring outside the window. Sicheng watches the landscape change from nature to concrete, and for some reason he catches himself frowning.

Sicheng didn’t know what he expected to see as soon as he’d reach the city, but it certainly wasn’t a grey snowy sky. His cheeks instantly ache from the cold, and his breath visibly crystallises into mid air with each exhale. However—the air is fresh in a way that's possible only in winter. Sicheng looks around, notices the uncleared piles of dirtying snow at the edge of the roads, the same box buildings from decades ago that are on the verge of falling apart, the same food stalls with the same old ladies he used to pass by every other day, and concludes that the city hasn’t changed at all. 

Kun is already waiting by the edge of the platform, wearing a puffy coat and a fluffy scarf that’s hiding most of his face. 

“Underdressed, aren’t you?” Kun says instead of a sappy hello.

“Shut up,” Sicheng laughs and dives into his embrace. “I missed you.”

“Same here,” Kun ruffles his hair, unties his enormous scarf and wraps it around Sicheng’s bare neck instead, like a caring mother. “Don’t you catch a cold.”

“With you around, fat chance I will.”

“Of course,” Kun replies with a grin. “Are you hungry?”

Sicheng nods, and Kun takes him to a noodle shop not far from the train station. The menu is the same, the same kind old lady serves them their noodles—it feels like a normal evening when Sicheng and Kun used to go out for dinner to different restaurants. 

Kun’s apartment is the same, too. Nothing is out of place. Sicheng spots the old stain on the carpet that Kun always wanted to get rid of, he sees that all of Kun’s potted plants are intact. Even the couch has the same creases on them from when Sicheng used to sleep on it after he had moved out of Ten’s place. Sicheng feels like he hasn’t left the city in the first place. 

“Make yourself at home,” Kun tells him, “although you probably already are.”

Sicheng smiles at him, unpacks a portion of his clothes and toiletries and leaves his suitcase closed. He sits back on the couch and stretches, tiredness toppling over. 

“Sleepy?” Kun asks warmly. “You should shower and rest. Tomorrow is a new day.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll do just that.”

Sicheng wakes to a sunny sky. He squints at first, but then he shoots up from the couch and stumbles towards the window. He hasn’t seen sunlight in so long. It’s surreal, almost, to see a clear blue sky. He searches for his phone to take a picture, and notices an unread message from Jaehyun. Sicheng sits back and smiles, but something in his stomach sizzles. 

“What’s gotten you looking so lovesick?” Kun says, emerging from his room. His hair is uncombed and he’s wearing worn pyjamas. “I’ll cook breakfast in a bit. What would you like?” 

“Nothing,” Sicheng replies, putting his phone away. Jaehyun had told him it’s raining again. Suddenly Sicheng longs for the rain. “And I really miss your fluffy omelettes.”

Kun drops the bombshell halfway through breakfast.

“You probably realize it but you and Ten will have to see each other at some point while you’re here.”

“Yes,” Sicheng says, “I know.”

Kun fidgets in his seat. “I know things have been weird for the past year, but I don’t want you guys to be awkward with each other.” 

“Now you're asking for too much,” Sicheng retorts. He puts down his cutlery and casts his gaze downward, deep in thought. “And as much as I don’t want for things to be awkward either, I know it’s also not possible for things to go to how they were before we broke it off.” He takes a deep inhale, “I just don’t know how to talk to him anymore. I don’t know where to start.”

“You could start with an apology,” Kun suggests kindly, “and then with a hello.”

Sicheng reluctantly agrees, “I guess we need to start over.” 

“From a blank page,” Kun encourages.

Sicheng continues eating his breakfast quietly. He thinks about how strange it is, to go from strangers to something more and then back to strangers again, their history dangling in front of them but forced to be forgotten. He supposes life is like that. He's not in love with Ten anymore, no, but having him be someone less than a friend is still not something he can get accustomed to, even though it has been months since they last talked properly. 

Kun takes Sicheng downtown like Sicheng is a tourist, and Sicheng spends the day snapping photos and sending them to Jaehyun. Jaehyun’s replies are quick and short; he sends him a photo in return of the rainy sea from outside of the lighthouse’s window. Sicheng imagines what Jaehyun might be doing right now; he might be on the second floor, relaxing on a couch with a hot mug of tea, or he might be standing on the gallery deck with an umbrella open. Sicheng wishes he was with him, huddled under the roof, shoulders touching, a blanket thrown over their shoulders, warm and comforting. The sun in the city is too bright, the sky is too cloudless. 

It’s been a day, he’d said to Jaehyun a few nights ago, and yet he finds himself eating his own words. 

“No,” Kun says, determination in his voice, “you’ve got to tell me why you keep looking at your phone so longingly like that.”

Sicheng shakes his head, “It’s nothing, really.”

Kun’s eyes narrow, “You’ve met someone, haven’t you.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Sicheng says unconvincingly, half mumbling half avoiding Kun’s gaze. When Kun’s amused smile curls into a grin, he knows he can’t stay secretive anymore.

“As your best friend I’m slightly offended I was kept in the dark about this,” Kun says, teasing, “but I’m happy for you, if you did meet someone, I mean. You know that, right?” the teasing in his voice is now gone and is turned into something reassuring and kind. “It’s good you’re moving on.”

“Thank you,” Sicheng replies genuinely, “I think I am.”

“Tell me about them,” Kun then says, “you simply must tell me everything.”

Sicheng laughs, feeling embarrassed, as if he’s a high schooler gossiping about someone he likes. It’s an exhilarating feeling, in a way, when his chest feels light and his body almost tingles with anticipation. “Well,” he says, glancing at his hands as if to remember what Jaehyun’s touch felt like on them, “he’s really nice. Really kind. His eyes are very expressive. Ah, I don't know, this is quite embarrassing to say out loud.” 

“Go on, go on,” Kun says, resting his cheek on his hand. “How did you two meet?” 

“Accidentally,” Sicheng says. “We always meet accidentally, either outside or in a grocery store, but recently I feel like our meetings have become more deliberate.” 

“That’s good, isn’t it?” 

Sicheng nods, “I enjoy spending time with him. It’s—comfortable. Really comfortable with him.”

“Ah,” Kun sighs, “Young love.”

“We’re just friends,” Sicheng adds, “although I don't even know if you could call our relationship that.”

“You can call it whatever you wish,” Kun comments. “It’s your relationship after all.” Sicheng’s phone dings then, a message from Jaehyun lighting up the screen. 

“Kun, he’s asking me if I want to video call,” Sicheng says, panic filling his voice. “What do I do?”

“Disgusting,” Kun smiles, “go talk to him.” 

Sicheng swipes Jaehyun’s text and finds himself blushing.

—

It’s on the fifth day of Sicheng’s return when Ten appears in front of Kun’s door. It’s a sunny afternoon; the sky is clear, devoid of anything grey. It’s a shade of blue Sicheng loves. Kun is in his room, on a phone call with a client although it’s his day off, and Sicheng is looking through his camera roll when the doorbell rings.

“Can you get that for me?” Kun whispers as he peeks out of his room, wincing mildly when he puts his phone close to his ear again. 

“Sure,” Sicheng says, standing up from the sofa and making way to the corridor. He looks through the peephole and sees Ten’s mop of black hair. His heartbeat quickens in anxiety, and he stands there unmoving until the doorbell rings annoyingly once more, and he finally unlocks the door.

Nothing could have prepared Sicheng for this to happen so soon. Sicheng expected a formal circumstance, a serious atmosphere, at least something awkward and tense because it’s been _months_ and they're barely on speaking terms, but Ten just smiles at him widely, eyebrows raised in surprise, reacting naturally. Maybe he’s faking it, maybe he’s putting on a front, a spotless act, Sicheng doesn't know.

“Sicheng!” Ten says warmly, as if they’ve never fallen out of contact, as if they’ve seen each other only yesterday and not over half a year ago. “Hi! I didn’t know you were back. I’m sorry for showing up without a notice, I just wanted to drop off something I promised.”

Sicheng opens the door further for Ten to come in. “Come inside.” 

Ten hoists up two plastic bags as he steps over the threshold, nose bright red from the cold outside and cheeks twinged pink, and Sicheng realizes he’s missed him.

Kun comes out of his room a second later, grumbling something about a fussy client when he sees Ten and Sicheng standing across each other. The tension must be thick on Sicheng’s part, because Kun’s looks mildly alarmed and apologetic, as if he forgot to tell Sicheng about Ten’s visit. “Oh, Ten,” he says, “give me your bags.”

Ten hasn’t changed much, Sicheng notices. He’s still the same height, same build; he has the same smile, same eyes. “Give me a hug first,” he says, grinning, and Kun rolls his eyes but does as told. Sicheng feels like he’s almost intruding, but then he feels himself get pulled over by his arm until he’s squished between Ten and Kun and Sicheng involuntarily smiles. 

Kun detaches himself first, ruffles Ten’s hair, takes the bags from him and walks to the kitchen. Sicheng adjusts so he moves his arm to hug Ten back, and even though it should be awkward and overly familiar, it’s nostalgic more than it is strange. It feels like just back in the good old days, when he and Ten and Kun were all the best of friends, before his and Ten’s romance, before their engagement, before everything fell apart. 

Ten’s hugs are still as warm and clingy as Sicheng remembers. Ten is almost a head shorter than him, his nose perfectly fits into the crook of his neck. “I missed you,” Ten says quietly into his collarbone, breath hot. “I’m glad you're back.”

Sicheng puts his cheek atop Ten’s head. “So did I,” he says honestly. “It’s been a long while, hasn’t it?”

Ten rocks them together back and forth. It’s a minute of silence until he speaks up again, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding less cheery and more vulnerable, “for everything, you know.”

Sicheng steps back and shakes his head. He takes in Ten’s wide apologetic eyes, his frown. He has never felt any anger towards Ten, not even when they ended things. It was mostly sadness back then, now it’s mainly guilt. “No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn’t have ghosted you like that. You didn’t deserve the silent treatment.” 

“I can’t say I wasn’t hurt, because I was,” Ten says, glancing to his side to see whether Kun is still occupied in the kitchen, then whispers, “but I don’t hold it against you. I know you, Sicheng, you need space. Especially since the annulment of our engagement impacted you this much.”

Sicheng nods. “I did need time.”

“Exactly,” Ten says, “you still ended up reaching to me over the phone, didn’t you? You already apologized many times, it’s all good.” 

“Are we good?” Sicheng asks. “Are we really okay?”

“If you want us to be, because I do.” Ten takes Sicheng’s hands in his own, looks down at them. “You’re still my friend no matter what. I still love you.”

Sicheng smiles a little, “I love you too.”

“Now let’s not get too sappy,” Kun interrupts them from where he’s leaning on the corridor wall, arms crossed but with a pleased smile on his face. Sicheng can guess that Kun overheard their conversation; there’s relief in his stance and the tension seems to leave his shoulders by the second. 

Ten grins at him, “Too bad you’ll have to endure us both until New Year’s.” Kun laughs. Ten continues, “Now, will you be a good host and cook for us or should we just stand here?”

“I’ll give you more time to talk things out,” Kun says, already walking back, “I’ll call you when lunch is ready.” 

“Kun would make a perfect housewife someday,” Ten says, eyes following Kun’s retreating back before they focus on Sicheng again. “Tell me about your new life. We have so many gaps to fill.”

Sicheng seats Ten on the couch. He tells him about the school, about his students. He tells him about how it always rains. Some way through the monologue Kun calls over for them and they help him set the table. In turn, Ten tells him about his workplace, about his promotion, how he’s almost ready to move but a little scared to start anew. 

Sicheng feels as if the puzzle pieces have fallen back into place. It really does feel like he hasn’t left at all. The situation—Ten’s stories, Kun’s delicious cooking, all three of them by the kitchen table—it’s all something Sicheng has dearly missed. 

The sun is high in the sky. It filters through the window, hits Sicheng in the eyes. It must be cold outside, he thinks. He watches Kun and Ten argue over how zebras are actually striped and think that everything is almost perfect—but there’s something missing. Something in the form of a deep voice and dimpled cheeks. It makes Sicheng feel slightly hollow, like there’s a little crack that can’t be glued together, which should be absurd, since it hasn’t even been a week since he last saw Jaehyun, but yet there he is.

Sicheng blinks at the sunlight. He focuses on the meal, decides to push his feelings—whatever he’s feeling—away. He can’t make sense of them. It’s like they’re an intangible clomp of something abstract. Jaehyun is a kind man, that much he knows. He’s attractive, too. Sicheng wonders what makes Jaehyun so special to him.

“So, do you agree?” Kun breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah,” Sicheng says offhandedly. He wasn’t listening. 

“Thank you!” Kun says smugly to Ten. Ten narrows his eyes and stuffs his cheeks with rice in defeat.

Sicheng thinks—what it would be like to have Jaehyun sit by the extra chair that no one uses, the one to Ten’s left. Would he argue with Kun? Would he help him cook? Sicheng thinks him and his friends would get along, and he holds that thought, because if he dwells too deep into what he and Jaehyun could hypothetically become he will only want to see him more.

“You look miserable,” Ten comments, chewing with his mouth open. 

“Do I,” Sicheng says, eyebrows raising. 

Kun glances his way, sipping on his tea. “He misses the town more than he’s missed us.” 

Ten laughs, “Well, the town must be quite nice then.”

“It is, even despite the weather,” Sicheng says. “It’s calm and not noisy,” he points at Kun and Ten. “Definitely nicer.”

“Ah, Sicheng,” Kun says, “admit you’ve missed the noise.” 

Sicheng shakes his head, but the smile on his face betrays him. 

Later, Ten suggests they go out for drinks. In hindsight it’s a bad idea, because Ten is the one who drinks a lot and Sicheng ends up drinking too much too, and Kun _tries_ to be the responsible one but always fails. 

It’s pitch black outside when they reach a bar downtown even though it’s only eight in the evening. It’s cold as well, Sicheng was right; his face is cold and his gloveless hands are freezing. It only makes Ten encourage him to drink to warm up, and Sicheng isn’t opposed to that. They have a round of shots and it’s almost like when they were in their early twenties in college, partying every weekend and waking up the next day hungover. Then Ten orders two martinis, watching as Kun flirts with the bartender who’s making him a fruity cocktail.

“I bet ten bucks Kun will give him his number by the end of the day,” Ten whispers into Sicheng’s ear, voice giddy. 

“I bet twenty the bartender will ask him out,” Sicheng whispers back. 

Ten wins. Sicheng holds back a whine as he hands him the money, meanwhile Ten cheers at a flustered Kun. At some point Ten tries to rope Sicheng into dancing, and Sicheng declines, content with nursing his drink. Kun is chatty when he’s drunk; instead of listening to him Sicheng watches the condensation on his glass roll until it falls into the wooden table. When he looks up to the dance floor, he sees Ten dance with a stranger. 

Sicheng takes a sip of his martini. He watches Ten, and feels nothing. It’s a good sign, he supposes. Although, maybe even half a year ago he wouldn’t have felt anything either. After a minute he turns his attention back to Kun, tunes him in. It’s a long night. 

—

Sicheng wakes up to an uncomfortable headache and a strain in his neck. He can’t seem to get used to Kun’s couch no matter how often he sleeps on it. He runs his eyes, reaches for his glasses. When he checks his phone, the time reads two in the afternoon. He registers faint chatting in the kitchen, the sound of something sizzling, the kettle boiling. 

Sicheng showers, shaves. Kun and Ten are by the kitchen, making two mugs of tea. It looks like Ten stayed over after yesterday’s night. Either that, or he miraculously didn’t get hungover and took the metro to Kun’s apartment in the afternoon. 

“Oh,” Ten notices Sicheng first. “Afternoon, sleepyhead.” Ten is generous with little words of affection. Sicheng used to preen under them, now he just smiles.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You were sleeping so soundly,” Ten says, “I simply couldn’t. We woke up not long ago either.”

“Do you want breakfast?” Kun asks. “I have to go to the office today after lunch, so the apartment is yours.” 

“I thought you were on a leave.”

Kun shrugs, “There was some emergency. I’ll be back before midnight—hopefully.” He raises a brow, unsure. “I can leave the both of you together alone, right?” 

“Yeah,” Sicheng replies, “of course.”

Being around with Ten when Kun is nearby is one thing, but being alone with him is another. Once Kun is after the door after they’ve all eaten the air grows unusually quiet. Sicheng can’t pinpoint if it’s comfortable or not. It’s like Kun is their equilibrium, with him out of the equation the whatever balance they maintained is ruined. 

Ten exhales a little too loudly after a while of silence. “Sorry,” he says, a hand coming up to the back of his neck. Maybe they’re not okay after all. “I don’t really know what to say right now.”

Sicheng shakes his head. “It’s okay. We could watch a movie or something.”

“I can go if you want,” Ten smiles. It’s a little less bright, a little more hesitant. 

“It’s okay,” Sicheng blinks. “I’ll just pick a movie.” 

“This is a little awkward,” Ten says, sitting down on the couch but not quite reclining. 

Sicheng says, “We used to be awkward when we just met, too.”

“You wouldn’t look me in the eye when I tried to hit on you,” Ten’s smile turns more genuine at the memory.

“I was embarrassed.”

“You threw away my number the first two times.”

Sicheng laughs at that, “I didn’t know you were Kun’s friend.”

“Sicheng,” Ten scoots closer so that their knees almost touch, “I really want us to go back to being friends.” He fiddles with his fingers. “Every day, I miss you. Even when you were ignoring me, I missed you. You were my best friend, you know that. Maybe us getting together was a mistake. We were too young, maybe we were too lonely. Not to say I regret our relationship, because I don’t. You’ve always made me happy, and I think I did, too.” There are hints of tears welling up in Ten’s downcast gaze, there's a slight waver in his voice. He takes another deep inhale, “But we weren’t right for each other. We are too different. And I know our annulment was mutual, but after it things only got worse. It hurt, to be honest. A lot. I realized I lost my friend.”

Sicheng reaches out to wipe Ten’s tears away. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I was very unfair to you.”

Ten looks up at him. “It’s okay, really. We’ve already established that. I know it hurt you too. And as much as we both were hurt I still want you in my life, I don’t know where to start.”

Sicheng says with a smile, “Kun said we can start with a hello.”

—

New Year’s rolls around the corner. It snows right in front of Sicheng’s eyes. Crystal snowflakes fall from the sky, twirling and landing on top of Sicheng’s head in splotches. He’s standing on the balcony, hands in his pockets, watching the fireworks. 

When he was little, New Year’s was all he looked for. He loved the atmosphere, the white snow and decorations, the food his grandma cooked and how his family all united together by the kitchen table. He always looked forward to what the new year would bring, what new things he would experience. He was excited for what was to come. 

Now as an adult, once the clock strikes twelve he can’t bring himself to feel the same joy. Instead, he feels dread, maybe even melancholy. He stands on the balcony and reflects on his life choices and regrets, on all the things he’s missed out on. He thinks about if he’s happy where he is now. The fireworks burst deafeningly in the sky but he can’t hear them over the slow beating of his own heart. 

“You should come inside,” Kun tells him, sliding the balcony window open. “You must be freezing out here.”

“In a minute,” Sicheng replies, not looking at him. He hears shuffling, and then Kun stands next to him, in his slippers despite the cold, handing him a glass of champagne. 

“This year too, huh?” Kun asks about his mood.

Sicheng takes a sip. “I’m just thinking.”

“That doesn’t bring anything good.”

Sicheng laughs dryly. “I wonder what Jaehyun’s doing right now.”

“So Jaehyun is his name,” Kun hums. He pats Sicheng’s back. “You must like him a lot.”

“I want to see him,” Sicheng says, not wanting to acknowledge Kun’s remark. He looks up at the sky and wonders if it’s cloudy in the town just like here, or if it’s snowing, like they’re both under the same sky. Or maybe the sky is clear and full of stars. Sicheng wonders if Jaehyun is with someone right now, if he’s alone, if he’s happy. Maybe Jaehyun dislikes the pressure a new year brings, as well. Maybe he loves the holidays. 

“Did you wish him a Happy New Year?” Kun asks. His cheeks are reddening from the cold. Ten is blasting festive music that can be heard from the inside, tipsy and overjoyed. 

“I was about to,” Sicheng says. He snaps a photo of his champagne glass in front of the fireworks and sends it to Jaehyun. 

_happy new year :)_ Jaehyun replies, sending a photo of a wine glass of his own. 

_How’s the weather back there?_

_rainy. come back soon so it will be sunny again_

Ah, Sicheng thinks, Jaehyun can’t be serious. Kun looks at him in surprise but doesn’t say anything about his flustered state. Sicheng clinks their glasses together before the last firework bursts.

“Guys, come inside already!” Ten yells from the kitchen. He shuffles towards the balcony window, pulls Kun in by his sleeve. Then he tugs at Sicheng’s arm until Sicheng is stumbling inside. “Christ, you’re freezing,” Ten laughs, cupping his cheeks for a second. “Like a popsicle.”

Sicheng bats his hands away, which only makes Ten drape himself over him. “Get off me,” Sicheng laughs. “You’re heavy.”

“I miss it when you were nicer to me,” Ten says instead, not budging. 

Sicheng pokes his side. “You’re drunk.” 

“A little,” Ten sniffs. He finally manages to sit down on a chair, shoulders slumping. He takes a deep breath. “I’m anxious about moving, and I don’t even know why,” he says, “It’s not like I haven’t moved before, not like I haven’t travelled abroad. But I don’t know, there’s just something about this relocation that feels so permanent. I don’t know when I’ll come back, if I will. Ah, you’re right, I am drunk.”

Sicheng softens. “Hey, don’t you worry.” He puts a hand on Ten’s shoulder, pulls out another chair and sits down so they’re eye to eye. “You’ll be just fine. Trust me. It will just take a little time to adapt, like always.”

“Do you think so?” 

“It’ll be good for you,” Sicheng nods. “New people, new friends, new relationships. You can come back during the holidays, like me. Hell, if you don’t like it there you can always quit or ask to be transferred back.”

“This city is my home,” Ten says. It’s so unusual to see him as something so worried like this, so dull. Sicheng pulls Ten into a hug, pets his hair. Ten exhales at the touch, relaxing. 

“Home is where you want it to be,” Sicheng murmurs. 

“Where’s your home, Sicheng?” Ten asks. He pulls back after a minute. “Something tells me it’s not here anymore.”

The question makes Sicheng think. “I don’t know,” he replies. It’s a thought-provoking question, it’s layered. Ten gives him a little grin and then Kun pulls him away to help with something, and Sicheng is left alone by the kitchen table. He takes out his phone and sees his messages with Jaehyun are still open. He clicks on the image of Jaehyun’s wine glass in front of the lighthouse window, wondering about the implications of it all.


	3. Chapter 3

Sicheng feels like he can breathe again when he returns to a familiar grey sky. It’s something he’s noticed recently; how in the city if the sky is cloudy, it’s toned with an ugly yellow, meanwhile here it’s twinged with a light blue. The air is cold on his cheeks as he waits for a taxi. His suitcase is heavy, straining his arm, and his train ride was too long, and the ground is damp with rain but Sicheng is relieved. 

An empty house greets him with the familiar smell of wood. Sicheng slowly unpacks his suitcase and it’s almost like a sense of deja vu—the rain, the town, him unpacking, only something is different now, although Sicheng can’t be sure what. He looks outside of the window, and notices that the rain isn’t as strong. There’s still no snow, and the ground is a green-brown colour from the winter grass. The air is fresh, as it always is, from the rain and from the sea. 

It’s so vastly different from the air—the atmosphere—in the city. Here the streets are wider, the houses are shorter. Sicheng doesn’t know when exactly he has started to prefer the countryside to urban landscapes. Perhaps it’s because of his age, perhaps it’s because of his quiet nature. He blinks out of his thoughts when his phone dings. 

_hey, sicheng. are you back already?_ reads from Jaehyun.

_Yeah. I arrived not long ago. Unpacking now_

_come over? :) i can cook if you haven’t eaten yet_

_I’ll be there in 20_

Sicheng gets there after fifteen. He puts on his warm winter coat and winter boots before he realizes that the weather here is not that cold. It’s more refreshing than it is freezing, the wind doesn’t bite at his cheeks but nips at it, his gloveless hands don’t ache and his eyes don’t turn glassy. Sicheng sticks his nose out of his scarf on the way to the lighthouse. He stops in his steps to admire the sea. It’s something he has always wanted to do—see the sea during winter. There’s just something poignant about it when the Sun isn’t blazing hot over it like it is during summertimes, something nostalgic and breathtaking. The waves lap against the shore timidly, shyly almost, as if not daring to wetten the brown sand. 

Sicheng hears Jaehyun before he sees him. His footsteps are relatively quiet, but to Sicheng they’re loud and clear. Sicheng can guess it’s Jaehyun who sits beside him on the only wooden bench by the earthy smell of his cologne, the fragrance of the sea and sandalwood from the lighthouse that clings to his hair.

“Hey,” Jaehyun says first, voice smooth and deep. It feels like fresh honey, or morning dew on the morning grass, sweet and alluring.

“Hey yourself,” Sicheng turns to him with a smile.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Jaehyun says. He’s wearing a cream turtleneck and a dark trench coat. His hair is wavy because of the high humidity, and despite it being cloudy it looks like he shines with every tug of his sincere smile. Either that, or Sicheng must be imagining things. 

“You always know where to find me,” Sicheng laughs. Jaehyun’s cheeks are pink, and so are his hands that extend themselves to pull Sicheng into a sideway hug. His touch is warm even though his nose is cold against where it accidentally grazes Sicheng’s neck, making Sicheng shudder against his will. 

The hug is short lived, almost nonexistent. Jaehyun pulls back as quick as he pulled himself in. Jaehyun reclines, face turning to watch the sea too. The sky becomes a little lighter, a little less grey. 

“Want to come inside now?” Jaehyun asks after a while of sitting in comfortable mutual silence. “It’s a little chilly.”

“It’s so warm here compared to the city,” Sicheng replies, but stands up nonetheless. “Like eternal autumn. September.”

Jaehyun gives him not quite a smile, but something close to resembling that. “Autumn is good.”

“Very good! It’s my favourite season,” Sicheng says. 

“Mine too,” Jaehyun says. As he stands up from the bench he fixes his hair that has been ruffled by a passing wind. His long bangs fall over his eyes, and Sicheng desperately wants to card his fingers through them, tuck a stray lock behind his ear. 

“So,” Sicheng stays instead, “you said you’d cook.”

Jaehyun lights up. “Of course. I’ll have you know I’m a very good cook.”

Sicheng raises his eyebrows, “And you didn’t want to tell me this sooner? To think I could have been eating at your place all this time.” 

Jaehyun laughs, light and breathy. His dimples are so prominent, Sicheng thinks, so deep. “Come on,” he says, “let’s go.”

Jaehyun takes Sicheng to not the lighthouse itself, but to a tall wooden house a few meters away from it. The front of the house has a garden, full of flower patches and bushes that look well kept and thoroughly maintained. Sicheng wonders how it all must look like in the summer. 

The house itself is similar to Sicheng’s own, only a bit bigger, a bit more grand. It’s spacious, and has the same rich smell of wood. There’s a fireplace crackling that Sicheng can hear right from the foyer, as well as a soft melody from a record player. 

“I didn’t turn anything off while I was out,” Jaehyun explains sheepishly. “Please, do make yourself feel at home. I’ll be right back to give you a pair of slippers. The bathroom is to the right if you need it.”

Sicheng tries not to feel nervous, but his chest still feels jumpy with something unknown. Perhaps it’s the excitement coursing through his body, or anticipation. He’s never been to Jaehyun’s place before. He is in the midst of unravelling his scarf around his neck when Jaehyun comes back. “I don’t really get many guests,” he says, “so I have everything spare put away.” 

“It’s okay,” Sicheng says, taking his shoes off and changing into a white pair of slippers. “It’s a pretty big house you have.”

“It’s my parents’,” Jaehyun says wistfully. Sicheng follows him across the corridor to the kitchen that’s to the left, deciding not to pry when Jaehyun changes the topic. “Now, tell me what you would like to eat.”

The kitchen is big, too. There’s space for a kitchen island with stools and a breakfast table. A large window slides open to a deck with two chairs and a coffee table on it. The entire house is very clean, Sicheng notices, very bright. It’s cozy and warm and lived in despite Jaehyun living here alone. 

“Surprise me,” Sicheng replies, “I’m sure I’ll love anything you make.”

“You have too much faith in me,” Jaehyun says, although he sounds confident in his abilities. He takes out a plain apron from a base cabinet and ties around his waist, rolling back the sleeves of his sweater up to his forearms after. He turns on the stove, waits for the gas to light up, then takes out a large pan. Sicheng sits still for a while before he says, “Let me help you with something, I can't just sit here and do nothing.” 

Jaehyun looks like he’s about to argue, but after Sicheng gives him a look he relents. “In that case could you cut up the vegetables?”

Sicheng nods, opening the fridge and taking out the ingredients Jaehyun instructs him to. It’s nice, he briefly thinks, preparing lunch in comfortable silence, really nice. Jaehyun makes little small talk, mostly concentrating on cooking or either giving Sicheng instructions. The domesticity is something Sicheng realizes he’s missed a lot while being single, especially finding joy in mundane everyday things. Having a good time can be so simple, he thinks.

“I’ve heard of this recipe before,” Sicheng says while frying chicken. “It smells delicious already.”

“It’s my grandma’s original one,” Jaehyun tells him with a little smile. “She cooked all the time when I was little,” he laughs, eyes fond with memories, “fed me so much I felt like I could burst. Can you pass me the soy sauce?”

Jaehyun is a good cook, Sicheng concludes when they’re done. If there’s anything he finds attractive in a man, it’s their good cooking skills, and Jaehyun is so ridiculously attractive. Jaehyun pours them red wine as they eat, then a glass more. The buzz he starts to feel after they finish the first bottle and halfway through the second one is making Sicheng lose his brain-to-mouth filter.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Jaehyun?” he accuses. “I haven’t even drunk this much on New Year’s.”

Jaehyun laughs in a way that has him tipping his head back, exposing the column on his throat, “Not at all, but speaking of New Year’s, I had a little gift for you. I can’t believe I almost forgot about it.”

“Oh,” something in Sicheng’s stomach drops again. He feels his face burn, and not from the alcohol. “You really didn’t have to.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, “I wanted to.” His hair is more ruffled than before, his eyes look wider than usual, darker, in a way. He’s flushed, too, but he looks so much more composed, so much more graceful as he slides out of the kitchen island stool and goes to another room. He comes back with a box in his left hand, and Sicheng feels his heart ricochet against his ribcage as Jaehyun comes closer. He takes Sicheng’s hand with his free one, gently hands him the box. It’s black and velvet and light, but all Sicheng can focus on is how his hand grazes over his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It drives Sicheng crazy.

“Open it,” Jaehyun says kindly, almost in anticipation. 

Sicheng does, slowly. A necklace stares back at him, silver and shiny, with a little sapphire jewel in the middle, shaped almost like a raindrop. Sicheng swears his breath stops for at least a second. “Jaehyun…”

“I noticed you wear jewellery,” Jaehyun interrupts him, gesturing towards Sicheng’s rings and earrings. He stumbles over his words, all grace and confidence lost. Now he just looks shy, unsure, hopeful. “I don’t know how you feel about necklaces but I wanted to get you something regardless.” 

Sicheng shakes his head. “I love it, thank you. I love it very much. I really do.” He inspects the necklace closely, running the silver chain between his fingertips. He dares to look up at Jaehyun, “Help me put it on?”

Jaehyun gives him a nod, sits on a stool beside him. He unclasps the necklace and lays it over Sicheng. Sicheng tilts his head, shivering at the cold press of the silver on his skin, praying his heartbeat cannot be heard. Jaehyun's careful hands graze over the hairs on his nape to clasp the necklace, his lips hover around the shell of his ear, breaths heavy. It feels like too intimate of a moment, but Sicheng doesnt want it to end. It’s unlike him to want someone this much this moment, but all he craves is for Jaehyun to dip down a little and kiss his neck.

It all boils down to this: it took Ten three tries to get his phone number, a whole month to persuade him to go on a date with him. It took an agonizingly long time for Sicheng to warm up to Ten, even though he was Kun’s best friend, his most trusted person beside himself. With Jaehyun, it’s not like this. It’s never been like this. It has been barely five months since Jaehyun and he met, but somehow he has already carved out a place in his heart, small but noticeable. They are still practically strangers—Sicheng knows nothing of Jaehyun’s life or past, and Jaehyun doesn’t know of his either—but somehow they are so much more. It takes Jaehyun just one look at him for Sicheng’s head to spin and one smile for his heart to ache, but maybe it’s the alcohol talking. 

He exhales shakily when Jaehyun pulls away. “Done,” is all Jaehyun says.

Sicheng’s fingers come up to touch the sapphire. “Thank you,” he says again, realizing his voice comes out a little hoarse. He wonders how he must look right now to Jaehyun, if the burning in his cheeks is noticeable. 

“It looks good on you,” Jaehyun says. There’s a glass of wine in his hand again—he must really like wine—and a smile on his lips. He rests his cheek on his hand, head tilted. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I feel really bad,” Sicheng says, “my present to you is at my house. You should've told me about this and I wouldn't have come empty handed.” 

“You got me something?” something in Jaehyun’s eyes shine.

“Of course,” Sicheng replies. “Maybe you should come by for a meal at my place next time and I’ll give it to you.” 

It happens in a split second, but almost simultaneously: Jaehyun’s face splits into a wide smile and the room becomes filtered with gold. Sicheng has to blink twice, because seeing Jaehyun with a halo of sunlight behind him feels more like a drunken manifestation rather than reality. But it’s all real—Jaehyun’s hair shining bronze, his cheeks glowing when he turns his head, his bright smile. He looks so overjoyed because of such a simple thing Sicheng had said, it leaves him baffled. In the rare moments when Sicheng can read Jaehyun like a book he finds that Jaehyun can be so easy to read; he’s so open with his feelings, so genuine, when he’s tipsy, at least. 

Sicheng can’t even care about the sky becoming blue behind the window, not when Jaehyun’s eyes crinkle like that. He has whisker lines on his cheeks, close to his nose, and god, Sicheng wants to reach out and caress his thumb over them gently. So he does. Jaehyun looks mildly surprised, but then the surprise morphs into something more pleased. 

“You have whiskers on your cheeks,” Sicheng says, almost in a whisper. “How are you even real?”

Jaehyun’s voice is low when he laughs. He leans into Sicheng’s touch, and Sicheng thinks this is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

—

The sunshine makes it to the news. It’s a good start to the new year, the news reporter is saying on the television, it’s a wonderful start. It’s the first time it’s been sunny for an entire day in one and a half years, Taeyong tells Sicheng over text, without a single cloud in the sky, but Sicheng only has half a mind to spare a glance out of the window because he’s too busy cooking lunch for two. He _did_ ask Jaehyun to come over, but he didn’t think he’d see him again so soon.

It’s only been two days. Two days are a short time, in retrospect, to mentally prepare oneself for a return lunch. Sicheng doesn’t know why he’s feeling so nervous all of a sudden, why he’s feeling the need to impress. His cooking is subpar at best. He’s no chef. And yet he’s standing in the kitchen, pots and pans sizzling, nerves aflame. 

Sicheng’s phone dings.

_should i bring anything?_ reads from Jaehyun.

_No_ , types Sicheng, then backtracks, _actually, if you got could get some flour and eggs on your way that would be great_

_sure :) anything else?_

_No, that’s fine. Thanks a lot!_

_no worries. i’ll be there in a few._

Sicheng sends a thumbs up as a reply and focuses on the stove. He hears his doorbell ring approximately twenty minutes later, and opens the door to Jaehyun who has grocery bags in both his arms.

“Hey,” Sicheng says, smiling, “you look a bit disheveled.” 

“Hi,” Jaehyun greets, “sorry, I went a bit overboard,” he gestures at the bags. “I was in a rush, didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Let me help you,” Sicheng says. He takes one bag out of Jaehyun’s grasp, thinking about how weirdly domestic this is. He bites on the inside of his cheek, nervousness filling him again. This is all very new to him, even though it shouldn’t be. 

Sicheng knows all of the technicalities of _feelings_ , he’s had butterflies in his stomach before, he’s felt anxiety from excitement before, he’s been in love before and he’s been in relationships before, but this is all so _different_. Jaehyun in his kitchen, helping him sort the groceries he accidentally bought too much of. Jaehyun asking Sicheng where the apron is, tying it around his waist, helping him to cook. Jaehyun helping Sicheng serve the plates, Jaehyun laying out the cutlery, Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun. 

Sicheng doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, really. It’s terrifying to think that the image of Jaehyun just being around him brings him so much joy, but he guesses it goes both ways. Jaehyun looks unusually cheerful today, there’s a genuine smile on his face whenever Sichengs shares anything about the city or about his friends, there’s a deep laughter whenever Sicheng cracks a stupid joke. He’s wearing a button-up, and his hair is styled back, forehead on show. Sicheng almost thinks Jaehyun put an effort to look good for him. Almost. Sicheng decides not to dwell on it. 

“Oh, right,” Sicheng says a while later. “I promised you a gift.”

Jaehyun looks up at him in surprise, as if he had forgotten about that. Sicheng gives him a small smile and goes to the living room to take out the present that he put on the coffee table.

“It’s nothing big, but I hope you like it.”

“Can I unwrap it?” Jaehyun says. 

“Go ahead,” Sicheng encourages. Jaehyun tears off the wrapping carefully, and Sicheng watches his eyes widen as Jaehyun realizes what he’s holding in his hands.

“It’s a painting,” Jaehyun states. 

“Yeah,” Sicheng says, rubbing a hand behind his neck nervously. “I asked my friend to help me paint it, because I can't really draw, but I think he ended up painting over my strokes.”

It’s a painting of the lighthouse and the sea, referenced from one of Sicheng’s countless pictures. He had asked Ten to help him with it before New Year’s, saying he wanted to bring back something for a friend. Ten had agreed easily, not even asking for whom it was for, although there was a gleam in his eyes that was far too curious. 

“At first I wanted to bring back something from the city, like a souvenir or something along those lines, but I thought that this would be more, uh, nicer,” Sicheng rambles. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jaehyun says. He doesn’t take his eyes off the painting. He inspects it close, traces his fingers over the dry oil paint. And then, Jaehyun beams. Again, it’s the same bright smile on his face Sicheng witnessed maybe once of twice. It’s so genuine and so beautiful, Sicheng wants to look away. 

“This is so thoughtful of you,” Jaehyun says. “Really, thank you. I will hang it in my living room right away.”

“It’s not that good…” Sicheng says timidly.

“No, it’s perfect, because it’s from you and it’s by you,” Jaehyun says. “I couldn’t have asked for anything else.”

Jaehyun is too kind, Sicheng thinks. He’s too lovely, with those dimples in his cheeks. Sicheng wants to reach out and cup his face, but out of nowhere a ray of sunlight filters through Sicheng’s see-through kitchen curtains, sudden and bright. 

“God, the timing you have,” Sicheng squints, moving his palm to shield his eyes from the light instead. “Whenever I’m around you the sun suddenly starts shining.” 

Jaehyun shakes his head, still smiling, “It’s the other way round.” 

Sicheng smiles, but with the conviction Jaehyun says it, he doesn't quite know what he means.

—

The perks of being a teacher, objectively, are the abundance of gifts. On the first day of the new semester, Sicheng gets flooded with little gift bags and even flower bouquets from his students. As a New Year’s gift, they had said. Sicheng can never get used to them. He knows they are courtesy gifts, out of politeness, if anything, and the parents are the ones making them in the first place, but some of them can just be so _expensive_. Cognac bottles, fine porcelain, liqueur, silver cutlery, the list goes on. 

Sicheng doesn’t think he’s the most extraordinary maths teacher every student adores, so he can’t guess how he himself could warrant to get such gifts, but when Taeyong just pays him on the back and tells him to not feel bad he plasters a smile and sucks it up. He ends up mailing them to Kun and to Ten’s new address, having no use for them himself. Ten sends him a text admitting that he almost emptied one of the bottles from the anxiety of settling down he’s still experiencing already, to which Sicheng replies, saying he should think about his liver. Ten video calls him then, shows him his new apartment, the view outside his window. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Ten says, voice a little distorted from the bad connection. “Not as pretty as the countryside, though, I bet.”

Sicheng scoffs, “Please. It’s just houses and trees here.”

“You’re right, I’d be bored to death there,” Ten agrees, laughing. It’s nice to talk to Ten without any worries swirling in his gut, Sicheng thinks, listening to Ten ramble about his first day at work. It’s refreshing as well it is familiar; it reminds Sicheng of the frequent phone calls they used to share when Sicheng was doing an summer internship in a nearby city meanwhile Ten stayed back in their shared apartment. It’s a fond memory Sicheng stores in his brain, but then again, all of his memories of Ten are fond.

Kun joins the call a few minutes later, and it’s almost like they’re in the same room together again, eating dinner or watching a movie while arguing. Sicheng basks in the banter that fills up his empty house, smiles to himself. 

“You guys should come visit me some time,” he suggests, “when you’re both free. It would be so nice.”

“I was thinking I’d grow old before I hear you suggest that,” Kun says. “I’ve been dying to see the lighthouse you speak of.”

“The lighthouse?” Ten pipes up. “Sicheng, send me a picture of it right this instant.”

“Give me a second,” Sicheng snorts. He scrolls through his camera roll to find a photo of the lighthouse from a sunny day and sends it to the group chat. 

“Yeah,” Kun continues, “I would like to meet Jaehyun too.”

“Jaehyun? Who’s Jaehyun?” Ten asks, and Sicheng stills for a moment, thinking of how to reply to that.

“He’s… a friend,” he settles on saying. It’s not a lie, but it’s not really the truth either. Deep down Sicheng knows that Ten would be more than okay if he were interested in someone, but for some reason Sicheng still can’t bring himself to be entirely honest. “He maintains the lighthouse.”

“Oh.” Sicheng tries to make out Ten’s expression through the phone. It’s unreadable for a moment, and Sicheng is worried that Ten would catch on and frown, but Ten only splits into a teasing grin. “He’s the friend you painted for, right? Do you like him?” 

Sicheng exhales at the little relief, but it turns into a groan. “Come on,” he says, “not you too.”

Ten and Kun laugh. “In this case, I definitely must meet this Jaehyun guy,” Ten says.

“You guys will only embarrass me,” Sicheng replies, but he’s smiling despite himself.

“Isn’t that what best friends are for?” Ten teases. “It’s our sole obligation.”

“Our duty,” adds Kun. 

“Shut up,” Sicheng laughs now. “You both are insane.” 

—

Sicheng finds Jaehyun once again by the school gates on a clear Wednesday evening. 

“Hey, Jaehyun,” Sicheng says, surprised to see him. “Is everything alright?”

“Hey, yes, yes,” Jaehyun says. He looks effortlessly good all the time every single time they meet, it’s unfair, really. Sicheng is a little relieved he dresses up properly for work. 

“Is there any particular reason why you’re here? Or did you just miss me?” Sicheng decides to tease, feeling particularly bold.

“Honestly? I did,” Jaehyun answers, and now Sicheng’s boldness wavers. “But I also thought we could go to the market tonight, if you’re not busy with grading tests.”

“Oh, I’d love that,” Sicheng says. “I haven’t been there in a while.”

Jaehyun ends up roping Sicheng into buying a bunch of seafood, and Sicheng can’t possibly refuse his persuasion. It isn’t a date, and it doesn't feel like one. It feels like something deeper and complicated, something beyond a simple date. Again, Sicheng pushes the thought to the back of his mind and enjoys the feeling of Jaehyun grabbing onto his arm whenever he finds something he wants Sicheng to see. 

One evening turns to two, and then two evenings then into three, and then somehow Jaehyun ends up walking Sicheng home every day from the school. Most of the time they don’t go out, just stay either in Sicheng’s living room while he works or in Jaehyun’s lighthouse—where Sicheng also works—in comfortable silence.

Again, they are not dates, and they don’t feel like ones. But the domesticity of it all makes it hard for Sicheng to breathe sometimes. It feels like _something_ , it feels like they’re _something_. Something more than just acquaintances, something beyond Sicheng’s vocabulary bank, something not in his understanding. He can’t understand if he himself wants them to be _more_ or if he wants to back away and never think about getting into relationships again.

“You alright?” Jaehyun asks him, sensing his confusion, and as much as Sicheng doesn’t want to groan, he does. 

“Yeah, there’s just a lot of papers to grade,” Sicheng says, “my shoulders hurt from sitting this much.”

“Hm,” Jaehyun says. He stands from his chair and stands behind Sicheng, starting to massage his shoulders wordlessly. 

“Ah,” Sicheng exhales are the sensation, “you’re good.”

“And your muscles are rock solid,” Jaehyun frowns. He works his thumbs in circles between Sicheng’s shoulder blades, his movements not too hard to hurt but firm. “Wouldn't you take a break?” 

“After a bit,” Sicheng murmurs. He hadn’t realized he was this tense. “One more test.”

“Rest, Sicheng,” Jaehyun says, voice too close to his ear. Sicheng thinks he shivers. “The tests won’t go anywhere.” 

“Maybe you’re right,” Sicheng says, admitting defeat. He _has_ been grading tests all evening. 

“Good,” Jaehyun says. He pats Sicheng’s shoulder and Sicheng thinks Jaehyun is going to pull his warm hands away, but instead Jaehyun’s fingers hover over Sicheng’s necklace. “You’re still wearing it,” he says quietly.

“Of course I am,” Sicheng says with a laugh. “I’ve never taken it off.”

Jaehyun fiddles with the silver chain between his fingertips. His touch is hesitant but eyes look focused. Sicheng notices with his heart beating in his chest that they don’t look sad anymore; haven’t looked sad for a while now. They look—gentle. 

—

“Mr. Dong, are you going to spend Valentine’s day with anyone?” Yangyang asks him after the last class of the day. The question catches Sicheng off guard. Yangyang is the type of student Sicheng would label as chaotic, even though his grades are not bad at all.

“Actually this year, no,” Sicheng laughs. He switches off his computer and stuffs away his papers into his bag. “Why? Do I look bitter and single?”

“Not at all,” Yangyang says. “I just thought a young teacher like you had someone special.”

“Yangyang, you complimenting me won’t make me give you a better grade.”

Yangyang laughs. “Mr. Dong!”

“Oh, but Mr. Dong, who is the person you go home with every day?” Chenle asks him, voice too eager and too curious. 

Sicheng is amused. How did his students even know about that? “A good friend,” he says.

“It’s Mr. Jeong, isn’t it?” 

“Aren’t you a bunch of nosy kids,” Sicheng narrows his eyes playfully. 

“My family and I know Mr. Jeong,” Chenle then says. “He used to tutor me for piano when I was little.”

“Is that so?” Sicheng muses. He didn’t know Jaehyun knew how to play piano. Oddly, it doesn’t come off as a surprise. Jaehyun looks like someone who’s musically inclined, and if he remembers correctly, Jaehyun has an old piano standing in the corner of his living room.

“He tutored me too,” Yangyang pipes in. 

“If you knew Mr. Jeong is the one waiting for me, why did you ask?” Sicheng cocks an eyebrow. 

“We weren’t sure,” Chenle says. 

“We?”

“Come on, Mr. Dong, it’s after school hours. We can have a non-academic chit chat. The whole class is rooting for you. You definitely should get him something for Valentine’s.”

“Flowers!” Yangyang suggests. 

“He’s just a friend,” Sicheng blinks. Something hot is creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears. He hopes it’s not obvious. “A friend,” he says again, this time to himself. 

Yangyang glances out of the window and then says, “A friend who apparently waits for you to finish work every day. Today, too.” 

“Alright, alright,” Sicheng grumbles. He takes in a deep breath, “Do you might have any idea which flowers Mr. Jeong might like?”

—

Sicheng can’t quite recall the last time he bought flowers for someone. The bouquet is heavy in his hand, weighing like a promise. He stands in front of the lighthouse, nervous and feeling like a teenager. The sky is sparsely cloudy, the air is fresh. Sicheng counts to three before he knocks. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know if Jaehyun is at the lighthouse or else, he hadn’t checked. 

When Jaehyun doesn’t answer, Sicheng assumes he either doesn’t hear him or he isn’t around, so Sicheng gives him a call. Jaehyun picks up on the third ring. “Hi, Jaehyun,” Sicheng says. “Are you at the lighthouse?”

“Hey. I’m at home, just upstairs,” Jaehyun answers. “What’s up?”

“Okay. Let me just cross the street.”

“Why? Are you here?” Jaehyun’s voice is confused.

“I thought you were in the lighthouse. I’m at your house now. So open up.” Sicheng hears shuffling coming from the other end of the line, then footsteps and Jaehyun humming in approval before the line hangs up. 

Jaehyun opens the door quickly. “Sicheng,” he says, eyes growing surprised at the flowers in Sicheng’s hands. “What’s all this?”

“For you,” Sicheng answers. “Happy Valentine’s day.” Jaehyun looks like he wants to say something, but Sicheng beats him to it, “Before you say anything, my students held me at gunpoint to buy this for you.”

“Your students?” Jaehyun lifts an eyebrow, amused.

Sicheng rolls his eyes, “They’ve noticed you waiting for me by the gates several times.”

“Well I can't say I was being discrete,” Jaehyun says. He looks at the flowers again. “But I appreciate the gesture, so thank you, they’re beautiful.”

“Good,” Sicheng says. “I waited in line for half an hour for them. Today is madness.”

Jaehyun laughs. “You must be tired then. Would you like to come in?” 

“I won’t stay for long. Wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Actually,” Jaehyun says, “I’d like you to stay a while. Today is my birthday.”

Oh, Sicheng thinks, of course it is. Of course Jaehyun was born on such a day. It’s only fitting. “Oh,” he says out loud. “My god, Jaehyun, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Jaehyun argues. 

“Nonsense,” Sicheng interjects. “You turn twenty-seven only once in your life.” He pushes Jaehyun and himself inside, makes himself at home. “We’re going to celebrate.”

Jaehyun gives him a smile, letting Sicheng do as he pleases. Sicheng asks, “Do you have a cake? Candles? Champagne?”

“No to everything except champagne,” Jaehyun says.

“Christ. Okay.” Sicheng seats Jaehyun down, and heads straight to the kitchen. It’s surreal to think that he’s grown to love cooking this much in such a short period of time. “Let’s see if I remember how to bake cakes correctly,” Sicheng says, taking out the ingredients. He already knows Jaehyun’s kitchen like the back of his hand.

Jaehyun, meanwhile, takes out a glass vase from one of the cupboards, fills it halfway with water from the tap and gently puts the bouquet in. The tulips and lilies mix well with the interior. 

“Won’t you need any help?” Jaehyun asks.

“It’s alright,” Sicheng shakes his head. “You should go and relax.” 

“That would be rude,” Jaehyun frowns. 

Sicheng thinks for a moment. “My students told me you tutored some of them on piano.”

“I might’ve,” Jaehyun says, a grin spreading over his face, like he knows what Sicheng is implying, what Sicheng wants to ask of him. “Why?”

“I want to hear you play,” Sicheng huffs. “If you don’t want to just sit around, you can indulge me.”

“Okay,” Jaehyun laughs, “as you wish.”

Sicheng hums, pleased, and returns to the task at hand. He hears the sound of a lid being opened, pedals being pushed down several times, then a few notes being pressed. A moment later the floor gets filled with tangible music, soft and gentle. Sicheng doesn’t know what Jaehyun is playing, he isn’t the best at music, but he can tell Jaehyun is really good. Sicheng makes the cream and prepares the layers for the cake. 

It takes around an hour to put everything together. Sicheng notices that it’s already four in evening as seen on the clock, and the sky is already darkening. Then, not far away from the clock, he notices the painting he gave Jaehyun hanging on the wall. Sicheng didn’t think Jaehyun would actually hang it up. It sticks out like a sore thumb in front of the wooden interior but it kind of also fits right _in_ , and Sicheng can't stop staring at it until his phone dings. 

_Look at the snow here_ , he reads from Kun. There’s a picture attached. It’s a photo of the outside of Kun’s apartment in a flurry of snowflakes and white covered roads. 

_Sucks to be you. No snow here,_ Sicheng replies. 

_Lucky :( what’s up?_

_I’m baking a cake rn. How’re you?_

_Baking??? Don't burn the kitchen down lmao_

_It’s not my kitchen_ , Sicheng types. 

_Oh god. Whose, then?_

_Jaehyun’s. It’s his bday so I’m baking him a cake_

Kun takes a long time to reply. Typing dots appear and reappear. In the end, he ends up sending, _That’s a sickeningly sweet gesture, especially from you. Wish Jaehyun a happy birthday from me_

_Thanks. I won’t_

Sicheng then puts the almond cake into the fridge to chill, washes his hands and cleans up the counters. Jaehyun is still playing. Just how many pieces does the man know? It’s almost incredible. 

Deciding that the cake can be left alone, Sicheng enters the living room. He sees Jaehyun sitting by the piano in the corner of the room, posture straight. His hands move so fluidly, Sicheng thinks, so smoothly. He looks so ethereal like this, face illuminated a soft gold by the torchère next to the instrument, eyes glowing in the light. It’s all terribly soft.

Sicheng leans on the piano, a lazy smile on his face. Jaehyun looks up at him then, returns the smile, although it’s more shy. Jaehyun has to tear his eyes away to focus on pressing the right keys, but his expression remains the same. Sicheng doesn’t know for how long he just stands there watching Jaehyun’s move without saying anything until Jaehyun eventually comes to a stop. “Sit down with me,” he says, scooting over. 

Sicheng does. The stool is small, so their knees end up being pressed up together. 

“How’s the cake going?” Jaehyun asks. He presses a random chord on the piano, as if absentmindedly, all of his attention on Sicheng. 

“Good. It should be ready in an hour maybe.”

“Good,” Jaehyun repeats. “I honestly can’t believe you’re baking me an entire cake.”

“It’s just an almond cake,” Sicheng says, “and _I_ can’t believe you’ve never told me you can play this well.”

“I never had the chance to bring it up,” Jaehyun says.

“You’re one hell of a mysterious man, Jaehyun,” Sicheng concludes. “I know so much yet nothing about you.” Sicheng doesn’t know the big things: he doesn’t know anything about Jaehyun’s family or where Jaehyun studied. He doesn’t know the little things, either, like Jaehyun’s favourite colour, the type of music he likes to listen to, the books he read before going to sleep as a child. What he does know, though, are these trivial things: what Jaehyun looks like when he cooks, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, a coy smile on his face when he knows he’s being watched. He knows the way Jaehyun’s eyes gleam when he plays piano, evidently enjoying himself. He knows of Jaehyun’s mannerisms when he talks, he knows Jaehyun is good at giving massages, that Jaehyun loves wine, that he forgets to bring umbrellas with him most of the time when it rains. 

These things are all so insignificant in the bigger picture, so fleeting and unimportant, but Sicheng holds onto the knowledge like a lifeline. He can tell, Jaehyun is a secretive person. He won’t open up unless someone prompts him to. Sicheng found out about his parents from Taeyong, about him being a tutor through his students, about his birthday simply because of a coincidence. Normally, Sicheng wouldn’t mind that, but it’s the first time Sicheng has wanted to know a person this much. He _wants_ to know Jaehyun’s favourite childhood memory and his go-to takeout order, he wants to know Jaehyun’s worries and insecurities, what he believes or doesn’t believe in, what he thinks about during sleepless hours of the night, what kind of animal he’d like to adopt, he wants to know what makes Jaehyun happy or upset or afraid. It’s a terrifying want, so terrifying it hurts.

“I think you know quite a lot,” Jaehyun says after a while of thought, “and I think I know quite a lot about you, too. I might not know much about your life prior to you moving here but I do know the you who is here sitting with me on this small piano stool, don’t I?”

“You’re right,” Sicheng smiles. He leans more to Jaehyun’s side, head almost resting on Jaehyun’s shoulder. He lifts his right hand to play a little melody he was taught many many years ago in school, his touch unsure but his fingers still remembering which notes to press out of muscle memory. Jaehyun straightens Sicheng’s wrist and fingers like he would to a child learning how to play for the first time, his touch so light and gentle, almost nonexistent, but still leaving Sicheng wanting for more. 

Sicheng leans away. “The cake must be still cooling off,” he says. “We can do something in the meantime. Are you positively sure you don’t have any candles?”

“I’ll have to look through the kitchen cabinets, but I’m not sure,” Jaehyun says thoughtfully. He does, in fact, end up having candles. Sicheng prepares the table for two while waiting for the cake to cool off completely, and Jaehyun places the vase with flowers in the center of it.

It’s of tulips and lilies. Sicheng stares at them and thinks maybe he should’ve gotten roses, or on the contrary, maybe roses would’ve been too much. He checks the time on the clock and takes out the cake, decorates the top with crushed almonds and honey and cuts it into carefully eight slices. Jaehyun opens a bottle of champagne with a loud pop, meticulously pours it into two identical glasses. It’s clockwork by now, the way they hover next to each other in the kitchen without getting into one another’s way. It’s like a natural process, a routine forged out of time spent together. Sicheng usually occupies the right side of the space, and Jaehyun occupies the left.

Many times has Sicheng entertained this idea of being domestic with someone again. And it's nice, it’s so nice to have someone to spend lonely evenings with, to celebrate birthdays with, to have a shoulder to lean on after a stressful day, to have someone’s undivided attention. After he sticks the candles into the cake he places the two slices on two different plates and sits down by the table across from Jaehyun. Sicheng sings him an out-of-tune birthday song and Jaehyun flushes red from the cheesiness and embarrassment, and Sicheng only smiles as he takes pictures of Jaehyun blowing out the candles. 

At this very moment Sicheng realizes he wants to lean over the table and give Jaehyun a kiss. It’s a ridiculous thought, so he doesn’t.

—

Before he knows it, the days blend into March. The ground begins gaining colour, the grass awakens from its light slumber. The air is less chilly, despite it raining from time to time. Sicheng is walking along the quay of the town until he reaches a little port he’s never had the chance to come across before. There are a few boats swaying from side to side gently from the wind. Sicheng buries his face in his scarf as he watches the seagulls fly and squawk over the sea. 

The weather has been on an off between being sunny and cloudy recently, but today is a sparsely cloudy day. Sicheng stands there for a moment, enjoying the waves over the horizon when someone he recognizes calls out to him from one of the boats.

“Sicheng!” 

“Jaehyun?” Sicheng asks. “I didn’t notice you here.”

Jaehyun waves at him. “I was just in the cabin fixing some things when I saw you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around this part of town.”

“It's my first time venturing here,” Sicheng says. “I didn’t know you owned a boat,” He inches closer to it, almost in awe. The boat is nothing special, it’s a regular one painted white with a wooden deck and a two-person cabin. 

“The information must’ve slipped my mind,” Jaehyun says, “want to hop in?” 

“In this weather?” Sicheng cocks an eyebrow. He watches Jaehyun shuffles close to the edge of the boat, extends his hand for Sicheng to take.

“What do you mean? This weather is wonderful for March.”

Sicheng laughs and takes his hand; Jaehyun’s fingers curl around his palm softly as he steps onto the boat. It rocks under his weight, and Sicheng momentarily tightens his grip around Jaehyun, then lets go. 

“Now that you mention, it is not that cold.”

Jaehyun smiles, “Do you want to go for a little ride? If you sail a few meters away from the port you’ll see the landscape of this town. It’s really pretty 

“Okay,” Sicheng agrees. He would’ve said yes even without Jaehyun convincing him. “Sure.” 

Jaehyun unties the rope from the dock and pulls up the anchor, sits by the boat helm and Sicheng sits beside him. The boat engine starts whirring, and then swiftly Jaehyun steers the boat away from the docks. Sicheng watches the townscape become smaller and smaller. 

“Don’t you need a license for this?” he asks curiously, watching Jaehyun’s side profile. Jaehyun’s gaze is focused but relaxed, he’s steering with one hand and his posture is a bit slouched.

“License?” Jaehyun laughs, “I don’t know. Not here, at least.” 

Sicheng nods in acknowledgment, rubbing his hands together. It’s undoubtedly colder by the sea, the wind is much more prominent and Sicheng feels it bite at his cheeks. 

Jaehyun glances at him and quickly takes off his own gloves. He hands them to Sicheng without a second thought, “Cold?” 

Sicheng gives them back, but his cheeks colour. “You need them more. You’re steering.”

“Just take them,” Jaehyun encourages, “you look like you’re about to freeze. I’ve sailed in colder weather, I’ll be okay.”

Sicheng hesitantly puts on Jaehyun’s gloves. They’re leather, slightly bigger than the gloves Sicheng wears himself, and they’re really warm. Sicheng exhales a little, then focuses on Jaehyun again. 

“Who taught you how to steer a boat?” 

“My dad,” Jaehyun says. “He was a sailor. I sometimes tagged along with him to his sails since I was five.” 

“What did you do?” 

“Nothing much, actually,” Jaehyun laughs, eyes fond, “I just helped him fish during summers. I was always in charge of the nets.” 

Sicheng hums, a bit amazed. His and Jaehyun’s childhoods are so vastly different. Sicheng was born in the city and he grew up surrounded by skyscrapers and urban life, meanwhile Jaehyun grew up surrounded by nature and simpler ways of life. Jaehyun stops steering then. “Let’s stop here,” he suggests. “You should go out to the deck. I’ll just lower the anchor and be right back.”

Sicheng gives him a nod. Jaehyun was right, the landscape is indeed beautiful; Sicheng can see the colourful houses on the main street and the promenade, he can see the cliffs to the far left and the lighthouse on top of them. It’s still windy, but Sicheng doesn't feel as cold. Must be because of the gloves, he thinks. 

“So, then we’d sell the fish in the downtown market,” Jaehyun continues when he stands by Sicheng’s side. “The market has relocated, and it’s smaller now, but back then it was huge. And the fish here is actually so delicious. Big and fresh. My dad and I could catch kilograms in one go. My mom cooked it so well, ah, I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

It’s the most Jaehyun has ever said about himself. Sicheng shakes his head with a smile, “No, no, I love listening about your past. Your childhood memories sound very—fond.”

“Ah,” Jaehyun stammers, “I’m just—not used to talking this much. But yes, I’ve sailed myself a couple of times. My dad had another boat for that. There are a few islands not too far from the town. They’re all uninhabited, but they’re still very gorgeous.” 

“I can imagine.”

“If you want, I can take you to see one of them some time,” Jaehyun suggests. “Maybe when the weather is warmer. It’s so nice by the sea in summer!”

“I’d love that,” Sicheng smiles. A gust of wind passes through them, ruffling Jaehyun’s hair. Jaehyun brushes his fringe away from his eyes, and Sicheng notices his fingers are burning red from the cold.

Sicheng takes off his left glove. “Put this one on,” he says. Jaehyun looks like he might protest, but Sicheng only rolls his eyes. He takes Jaehyun’s right hand and jams it into the pocket of his trench coat, his fingers curling over Jaehyun’s own. “This way we’re both warm.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says.

“Tell me more about yourself. Your family.”

Jaehyun hums. “I don’t think there’s much to say. Life in towns like this one is always stable. Stagnant, I’d say? My parents lived all their life here. My dad was a sailor, and then my mom was a baker. They are the ones who started maintaining the lighthouse for many years. My mom said I was born on the first floor there,” he laughs. 

“Your parents sound like very good people.”

Jaehyun smiles sadly, “They were. I miss them a lot.”

Sicheng bites his lip. He stands closer. He remembers Taeyong telling him about Jaehyun’s parents, but it’s not the same as hearing it from Jaehyun himself. A part of him wants Jaehyun to tell him himself. “Were?”

“They, uh, passed,” Jaehyun says, averting his gaze. “Nearly two years ago...”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Sicheng cuts in.

Jaehyun shakes his head, “It’s okay, it’s just hard to talk about it sometimes no matter how many months pass.” He takes a deep breath. “One night there was a big storm when they were out in the sea, and they just—never came back.”

“Jaehyun,” Sicheng squeezes their palms, “I’m so sorry.” 

“My dad’s old crewmate found the ship abandoned a few nights later…” Jaehyun’s voice breaks, and he doesn’t continue the sentence. Sicheng runs his thumb over Jaehyun’s knuckles, waits for Jaehyun’s breathing to calm down. It does after a minute. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun clears his throat. 

“What are you apologizing for?” Sicheng asks. 

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun admits. “It’s a lot of baggage all at once, I guess.” His voice wavers off again and Sicheng simply pulls him into a hug. Jaehyun stiffens up from the unexpected touch.

“It must’ve been so hard.”

“It was,” Jaehyun somewhat relaxes in his hold.

“It must’ve been lonely,” Sicheng whispers.

“It is,” Jaehyun says.

“You’re so strong, Jaehyun,” Sicheng says quietly, slowly. “So lovely, so kind, so strong.”

Jaehun wraps his own arms around Sicheng. He breathes heavily through his nose, and Sicheng knows he’s trying to hold himself back from crying.

“You’re so amazing for enduring it all on your own,” Sicheng murmurs, stroking Jaehyun’s hair. “So strong, Jaehyun, I can’t stress it enough. You’re doing such a great job with the lighthouse all by yourself. But you’re not alone, yeah? You shouldn’t keep all of this to yourself. You can’t suffer silently. It’s not healthy. You have me. I’m always here for you.”

The sky starts darkening, Sicheng notices when he cranes his head up for a split second, clouds start moving rapidly, start changing their colour to a dark ominous grey. Something in the air shifts, too, and then when he hears a sharp inhale, Sicheng realizes Jaehyun has let himself cry.

Rain starts pouring, but Sicheng doesn’t move to pull away or hide from it. He holds Jaehyun tight.

Jaehyun seems to just now realize what’s happening because he pulls away, looking guilty. “Would you look at the weather,” his laugh is humourless, “I’m sorry for the rain.” His eyes are glassy. “We should go back. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“It’s okay,” Sicheng says. “You’re okay.” He wipes at Jaehyun’s eyes with his gloveless hand, not letting him pull away entirely. Jaehyun’s tears mix with the rain, and it makes Sicheng’s heart hurt. It feels like the sky is crying with him.

Sicheng continues running his hand up and down Jaehyun’s back. It takes a lot of trust to be this vulnerable in front of someone, he thinks, it takes a lot of courage. Rain falls and falls, but it doesn’t feel cold. In fact, it feels strangely warm. Jaehyun doesn’t say anything for a moment, just lets himself be held. 

When Jaehyun’s breathing stabilises, Sicheng cups his cheek to make sure he’s okay. “Do you feel better?”

Jaehyun averts his gaze, but there’s a hint of a timid smile on his face. “Yes, sorry. Thank you.”

“Stop apologizing,” Sicheng reprimands. “You keep saying sorry. You said sorry even for the rain. How is that in your control?” 

Jaehyun lets out a laugh, “You’re right.” He steps away from Sicheng’s loose hold. “Let’s go back. Or we’ll both fall sick.” 

The rain lightens. “Okay,” Sicheng says, “but then you’re going to my place and I’m making you tea. No objections.”

“No objections,” Jaehyun nods. 

It’s probably the first time ever, Sicheng thinks, that it’s not that bad being soaked to the skin on a cold spring afternoon. It feels liberating, almost, as if the rain has washed all his burdens away. Perhaps it’s the same for Jaehyun, too, who looks much calmer now than he was minutes before. More serene, even. His nose is still red and bright, but he sits straight and steers confidently back to the town. Sicheng puts a hand on his knee, a comforting touch, and although Jaehyun’s eyes are fixed on the sea, he smiles. 

Later, he’s ushering Jaehyun into his bathroom, filling the bathtub and giving him a spare towel and a change of clothes. He prepares a teapot and goes to shower himself upstairs. Hot water hits his skin, harsh and strong and nothing like the rain. He comes downstairs to Jaehyun already in the kitchen, standing by the stove and preparing a warm meal, hair damp, and his heart warms for reasons he doesn’t wish to acknowledge. 

Later, while running a towel through Jaehyun’s hair, drying and ruffling it, smiling at the sight of Jaehyun’s red ears from shyness, eating in harmony by the kitchen table, drinking tea out of the same mug, Sicheng once again thinks he wants to kiss Jaehyun. No, he knows he wants to kiss him. It isn’t an epiphany and it isn’t a mind-blowing revelation. It doesn’t shake the ground and it doesn’t tilt Sicheng’s axis. Sicheng blinks; the globe continues spinning without a care, the wall clock continues ticking without missing a beat, and he is simply left with the feeling of longing in his chest and a recurring thought he can no longer ignore.

—

“The weather has been getting better recently, hasn’t it?” Taeyong says in the comfort of their staff room. “It’s such a surprise to me.”

“You’re right,” Sicheng hums, “it hasn’t rained for over a week.”

“I don’t remember a spring ever being this warm and sunny,” Taeyong sips on his thermos with tea. “Anyway, how was the parents’ meeting?”

Sicheng waves a tired hand, “Same old, same old. Some parents were so exhausting, I’m glad it finally ended.”

“Same here,” Taeyong frowns, “I don’t know how you deal with their pressure though, it must be tough.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t handle it,” Sicheng grins. “They’re just worried for their kids. I get them.”

Sicheng does get them, but he also doesn’t. Parents are demanding creatures, more often than not they like to blame the teachers for their kids’ irresponsibility, and although Sicheng has been in this teacher business for a while now, being almost yelled at ruins his mood. He glances at the clock; it’s a bit past seven in the evening. The meeting lasted around an hour, maybe even less, but it might’ve been the longest hour of his life. Taeyong looks equally drained, and Sicheng thinks with a sign that nearing exams don’t affect the students only. 

Taeyong is heading out for the day. He’s wearing a ridiculous scarf Yuta had gotten him as an anniversary gift, and it’s almost endearing. It was a matching set of scarves, Taeyong had told him, he couldn’t dare refuse Yuta. He slings his bag full of paint over his shoulder and waits for Sicheng to get ready, 

“So,” Taeyong says once they’re out in the hallway while Sicheng is locking the staff room door, “you and Jaehyun.”

Sicheng halts for a second, “What about me and Jaehyun?”

“Are you guys not together?” 

“No,” Sicheng says. “Why? What’s up?”

Taeyong shrugs. “For some reason I just thought you were. You guys spend a lot of time with each other. One thing leads to another, does it not? Although I thought you would’ve gotten together months ago.”

“I mean, we’re just friends,” Sicheng mumbles.

“Come on,” Taeyong nudges him, “you can’t tell me there are no feelings involved here.”

“Don’t you love gossip,” Sicheng arches his eyebrows.

“In this old little town gossip is the only thing that keeps me going,” Taeyong says. “Now spill. I’m all ears.”

Sicheng contemplates for a second, then decides Taeyong is someone he can share his burden with, “There might be.”

“Oh, Sicheng,” Taeyong says. Then, more softly, “That’s wonderful.” 

“Not quite,” Sicheng says.

“Why’s that?” 

“Is this where I open up about my attachment issues from my previous failed engagement or can we skip the drama?”

Taeyong laughs, but it’s soft. They walk step in step down the stairs. Taeyong’s voice seems loud because of the dead quiet inside. “You’re scared, I understand that. When Yuta first asked me out, I said no because I was scared as well. We were best friends in university. I did like him, don’t get me wrong, but I thought that getting into a relationship with him would end in a break up because of what ifs I had made up in my mind. Then Yuta asked me if I was okay with him asking out someone else, and I realized that I wasn’t. I wasn’t at all. The thought of losing my chance with Yuta was what made me take the leap of faith, if you know what I mean. But I digress. What I’m trying to say is that bottling up your feelings isn’t the way to go. Yes, you might have been hurt in the past, but ignoring how you feel and suppressing it will only make the present slip through your fingers. Tell me one thing, how does Jaehyun make you feel?”

It’s an easy question. “Secure,” Sicheng replies. “Comfortable. Happy.”

“Hmm,” Taeyong hums. “What do you feel when you look at him?”

It’s a difficult question. Looking at someone after realizing you have feelings for them is difficult. Looking away from them is difficult. “Want,” Sicheng says. “I want to be there for him, I want to be next to him.” The desire is so strong it aches. 

“My dear friend,” Taeyong pats Sicheng’s back. “You should tell him all this. Be honest with yourself, yeah? Or it’ll only hurt you both.”

“What makes you think Jaehyun reciprocates?” Sicheng asks.

Taeyong snorts, “Please. As I’ve said, gossip in this town keeps me going.” 

They reach the exit of the building. The sky is a dull blue colour, and a few stars start twinkling in between. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your last engagement,” Taeyong says, voice coming a little muffled because of his scarf. “However, it doesn’t mean that your new relationships will end up the same way. Life goes on. Everyone you meet is different. Jaehyun is different, but you already know that, right?” he smiles. 

“Yeah,” Sicheng says. “I do.” 

“Good,” Taeyong says. “Now I see Jaehyun waiting for you by the gate. Tell him I said hello.”

Sicheng nods, “And tell Yuta to feel better for me.”

“Will do,” Taeyong laughs. “It’s just his luck to get sick the moment the weather clears. Incredible, really.”

Sicheng waves at him one last time before walking up to Jaehyun who is scrolling through something on his phone. Sicheng takes his limited time admiring Jaehyun’s side profile before Jaehyun notices him approaching. It takes only two heartbeats for Jaehyun to hear his footsteps and to look up and pocket away his phone. Jaehyun smiles at him. What a beautiful sight it is, Sicheng thinks. He doesn’t know if he likes the way his ribcage expands and contracts at the same time at it. 

“Hey,” he says, “sorry I took so long.”

“It’s alright. I wasn’t here for long.” It's a lie. Sicheng saw Jaehyun standing in the same place from his classroom’s window almost twenty minutes ago. “Was that Taeyong?” Jaehyun asks. 

“Yeah,” Sicheng replies. “We’re friends, somewhat. Aren’t you cold?”

“Not really,” Jaehyun almost flushes, realizing Sicheng saw right through him. “It’s getting warmer and warmer with each day.”

Sicheng hums, “That it is. The days are getting longer, too. The weather is so nice these days.” At Jaehyun smiling in response, he says, “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“You could say that,” Jaehyun replies. “It’s been a nice several weeks for me. Do you have any plans for today?”

“None,” Sicheng says.

“Great,” Jaehyun’s eyes are twinkling, “I was thinking we could go to the port. Not far from it there’s a little park where the trees are in full bloom…”

It’s a little ridiculous, Sicheng thinks, how Jaehyun could have just texted him all this, but instead he showed up to his workplace. It’s endearing, the way he does it daily, like an unspoken routine. Sicheng really doesn’t know if it means anything, if Jaehyun being so nice to him means anything, if what Taeyong said means anything. It hurts his mind to think about, it makes his heart ache in the way that he hates. But Jaehyun looks at him expectedly, oblivious to his inner turmoil, and Sicheng pushes everything he feels down and down. 

“Let’s go,” he says, looping his arm with Jaehyun’s. “We’ll take lots of pictures.” 

—

_Cute instagram pics_ , Ten texts Sicheng later.

_Shut up_ , Sicheng replies. He doesn’t post on Instagram often, but he did post several pictures of himself and Jaehyun next to the apple blossoms because Jaehyun insisted and because they were pretty cute.

_I didn’t even say anything!_ Ten protests.

_I know what you were thinking_

_And what was I thinking?_

_Nothing good_

_Rude_ , Ten types, _but… so you do agree you guys look like a couple_

Sicheng frowns at the kissy emojis. _What?_

_Come onnnnn you never post other people on your page_

_I posted photos of you though?_

_Only when we started going out_ , Ten sends a row of laughing emojis. _Unless…?_ Eye emojis. Thinking face emojis. 

__Stopppp_ , Sicheng types, it really isn’t like that_

__But you want it to be though, don’t you?_ _

_I don’t think I know how I feel about discussing my new potential romantic relationships with my ex_

_WJDJEKKE well_ , Ten says, _we’re best friends first and foremost so of course I want to hear about your love life_

_Awwwwwww, how cute_

_Now tell me tell meeee I wanna know everything_

Sicheng huffs, _I forgot how annoying you are_

_Well maybe if you unmuted our group chat you would know! Anyway, since I know you won’t tell me anything over text I’m hoping you’d tell me in person_

_In person?_

_Kun and I are planning on visiting you sometime at the end of May. Is that ok?_

Sicheng immediately presses on the call button and Ten quickly picks up. “Really?” Sicheng says. 

___“Well hello to you too,” Ten laughs. “Yeah, we’ve been planning this for a while. I’ll take some days off at work and Kun will, too. As far as I know you have exams at the end of May, yeah?”_ _ _

___“My students have, yeah,” Sicheng says, “but I won't be too busy, hopefully. It would be really great to see you guys.”_ _ _

___“I know, right?” Ten says. “It’s been a while, and I’m very curious about the town and everything. I hope it doesn’t rain too much, though._ _ _

___“Actually,” Sicheng interjects, “the weather has been very nice lately. No rain or clouds.”_ _ _

___“Is that so?”_ _ _

___“Mmhm,” Sicheng says, “so don’t you worry. But still take an umbrella just in case.”_ _ _

___“Sweet,” there’s a hint of a smile in Ten’s voice, “I can't wait to see you and your lover boy!”_ _ _

___“Ten!”_ _ _

___“Okay,” Ten laughs, “I’ve got to go now. I’ll text you the moment I get train tickets. See you soon!”_ _ _

___“See you soon,” Sicheng says, “be safe. Don’t overwork yourself too much.”_ _ _

___“Likewise, love you,” Ten replies and hangs up. Sicheng locks his phone and takes a deep breath. He thinks about the past almost-nine months he’s lived in this house, and how things have changed. Back then, he and Ten weren’t on speaking terms; now, Ten is about to meet Jaehyun. It leaves Sicheng nervous for many reasons, and not just because Ten is his ex. It’s also the teasing he would have to endure from both Ten and Kun, but most importantly it’s acknowledging the feelings he has for Jaehyun in the first place. Completely non-platonic, strong, aching feelings._ _ _

___And Sicheng is scared, ultimately so. He’s not stupid enough to pretend he doesn’t like Jaehyun, but he is stupid—or smart—enough to not act on it. The act of laying your heart out on a silver platter, leaving it up to the hands of someone else, to either cherish or crush is an act Sicheng doesn’t know he can commit one more time, lest his heart gets crushed again in the process. It’s too much of a risk to take. His heart is already patched up, still beating but a little rough around the edges. Another heartbreak is not something he can handle._ _ _

___And it isn’t like Jaehyun would break his heart intentionally, he’s too nice for that. Too kind, too considerate. But nonetheless, there’s a possibility that they might not work out, that they might fall out of love just like Ten did with Sicheng, and that’s what scares him most. Sicheng sits in silence and deep in thought until his phone dings with a message from Ten with their train tickets information in the group chat, and Sicheng snaps out of it._ _ _

___ _

___—_ _ _

___ _

___Sicheng is standing in the galleries of the lighthouse, watching the waves splash against the shore. The sky is a bright pink, the sunset reflecting against the sea. The clouds light up orange around the edges, beautiful and serene. The spring breeze wraps around Sicheng like a gentle and warm embrace. It feels like a calm before the storm. Jaehyun is a few floors below, in the kitchen, looking for a bottle of champagne because today is a holiday and he thought it would be a nice idea to get loose._ _ _

___It’s a very pleasant evening. Sicheng walks down the kitchen and takes the flute of champagne Jaehyun offers him. They’ve already had dinner and dessert, now settling on the sofa in front of a little television screen. There’s a movie running but Sicheng isn’t really watching it, and he knows neither is Jaehyun. One flute turns into two and two turns into three, and soon a bottle is emptied._ _ _

___With tipsiness Sicheng inevitably becomes a little hyper aware of his surroundings, like how Jaehyun is sitting too close to him, an arm draped over his shoulders, how every time Jaehyun fills Sicheng’s flute their hands brush. It’s dizzying. When Jaehyun leans closer to say something to him, Sicheng feels his hot breath on his skin, the rumble of his low voice next to his ear. It makes his heart beat fast, and precisely because Sicheng’s heart is beating so fast, he forces it to calm down._ _ _

___He debates on saying something. Anything. Jaehyun is close to him, handsome and beautiful as always, and for a fraction of a second Sicheng even considers confessing. Almost._ _ _

___“Hey, Jaehyun,” Sicheng says. Jaehyun meets his gaze, eyes dark and warm, reflecting the light from the yellow ceiling lights. He’s looking expectedly again, he somehow always looks at Sicheng like he’s the only person in the world, and it’s such a tender and gentle and painful look, that what comes out of Sicheng’s mouth next, is: “We’re friends, right?”_ _ _

___Jaehyun’s mouth curves into a slight frown, barely noticeable. “We are,” he replies, and Sicheng wishes Jaehyun didn’t have such expressive eyes because then he wouldn’t have noticed the hurt in them. “Why?”_ _ _

___“I really appreciate you,” Sicheng says, collecting his thoughts together. The words roll out without a filter, and Sicheng can’t stop himself because he’s a lightweight and he can never control what he says when he’s tipsy. “For everything you’ve done to me.”_ _ _

___There’s a moment of silence. Jaehyun looks up and down, lips pressed together. “Why are you saying this?”_ _ _

___“I don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud before, but you’ve always been so helpful to me, so understanding and so kind. I don’t know what I would be doing here in this town without you.”_ _ _

___“Sicheng,” Jaehyun is almost pleading, “why now?”_ _ _

___“I just wanted to make myself clear.”_ _ _

___Jaehyun’s frown depeens, confusion painting itself all over his face. He puts down his glass, folds his hands over his lap. It hurts for Sicheng to look at him, so he keeps his head low._ _ _

___“Clear? Clear about what? You know how I feel about you.”_ _ _

___The bombshell drops. Sicheng stills and looks up into Jaehyun’s eyes, but everything he sees is becoming blurry. “Jaehyun,” he says, his voice shaking. His heart feels like it would burst at any given moment with all the worries running around his head. This isn’t how the night was supposed to go. It should have ended on a lovely major note with them drinking until midnight and parting ways, but now because of Sicheng’s big mouth it’s sizzled into a depressing minor._ _ _

___The cat is out of the bag now, but in reality, Sicheng has expected it all along. Jaehyun is obvious with his body language and acts of service, his feelings are as clear as day. And Sicheng feels so terrible, because he knew, he _knew_ , and yet he still said what he said; he still decided to pick the latter route Taeyong warned him about. He takes a deep inhale. “I really don’t think I can do this anymore.”_ _ _

___“Sicheng…” Jaehyun reaches out for Sicheng’s face, wipes a tear with the back of his hand. Sicheng sniffles, but he pulls away._ _ _

___“I’m really sorry,” Sicheng says. He feels like he’s suffocating. “I just— I don’t— I think I’ll go.”_ _ _

___“Okay,” Jaehyun agrees. He doesn’t protest. He doesn’t pry or ask or say anything else. He helps Sicheng with his coat despite the heavy silence. Sicheng can feel Jaehyun’s gaze burning through it, questioning and curious and hurt, but he forces to pay it no mind._ _ _

___“Are you okay with walking alone in this state?” Jaehyun asks when Sicheng is almost out of the door. “I can walk you back.”_ _ _

___How impossibly considerate Jaehyun is, Sicheng thinks. He almost feels sick. “No, it’s alright,” Sicheng says. “I think I’ve sobered up. Don’t worry.”_ _ _

___“Okay,” Jaehyun says. He still looks concerned. “Then, I’ll see you later?”_ _ _

___“Yeah,” Sicheng gives him a little smile, hoping it doesn’t come out wobbly and fragile, “maybe.”_ _ _

___It rains for the whole night, and then for another three days._ _ _


	4. Chapter 4

They don’t see each other. Jaehyun doesn’t text and Sicheng doesn’t either. After holidays pass and the semester resumes, Jaehyun doesn’t show up to the school, doesn’t wait by the gates. Sicheng can’t hold it against him, because he knows Jaehyun needs space. He is no better; Sicheng doesn’t reach out first himself, too anxious and preoccupied with exam preparations. 

There’s a hollowness that fills him, and it’s noticeable that his mood has dampened, because even Yuta asks him if he’s doing alright. And he is, at least he thinks he is, because he puts on an automatic smile around his students and colleagues, and when he comes home the facade doesn’t crumble and he doesn’t cry or anything, but he just feels… sad. Like Jaehyun has taken away a part of him, and perhaps he did, because Sicheng doesn’t feel like himself nowadays. In the short time they’ve known each other, Jaehyun has become some sort of constant in Sicheng’s life, molded himself into the spaces and creases of Sicheng, and without him, there’s just emptiness. 

On the day Sicheng picks up Ten and Kun from the train station, it’s still raining.

“Wow,” Ten says, “when you said the weather was getting better here, I thought you meant it stopped raining, not the opposite.”

“I think the station is flooded,” Kun comments, rolling up the ends of his jeans. 

“Oh shut up,” Sicheng grumbles but pulls them into a hug nonetheless. “It really was sunny until a few days ago.”

“Huh,” Kun says, “that’s a little weird.”

“Please, the whole town is in chaos,” Sicheng sighs, “everyone was getting so used to sunshine, and now this… Either way, let’s get going before we get soaked, yeah?”

Kun agrees but says he needs to buy an umbrella since he forgot to bring one from the city. Ten pokes fun at him for forgetting the obvious and Sicheng tells him he can buy one at the station’s shop. Kun gives Ten a glare but rushes off. Sicheng watches Kun dodge the puddles on the way and feels a hand pat his arm. “Are you alright?” Ten asks him softly.

“Yeah,” Sicheng smiles tiredly, “just had a rough week.”

“We’re here to brighten up your mood, then,” Ten beams. “I hope you have enough beds in your house because I am not sleeping on the couch!” 

Sicheng laughs, “Sure, Ten.”

Kun returns with an obnoxious-looking umbrella because the shop didn’t have any other ones. It’s a light pink with floral patterns but it is big enough to cover two people. “It looks ridiculous,” Sicheng says at the same time as Ten says, “It looks cute.” 

Sicheng and Ten share a look. Kun lifts the umbrella over them all and says with a sigh, “Shall we go already? It’s freezing here.”

“I’m sorry guys,” says Sicheng as they hail a taxi. “I really didn’t think the weather would be this bad.”

Kun shakes his head, “It’s alright. Stuff happens. We’ve had colder Mays.” 

That doesn't reassure Sicheng much, but he still smiles. The ride to his house is silent, save for phone game sounds coming from Ten’s phone from the passenger seat. Sicheng watches crystal raindrops race each other on the window, Kun dozing off on his shoulder. They arrive around ten minutes later to the rain becoming more intense. Sicheng pays the driver meanwhile Kun and Ten quickly get their duffel bags. 

“This is just like my first day in this town,” Sicheng says once they’re inside the house. “It was raining so hard, I was soaked to the skin even after a few seconds.”

“Incredible,” Ten says, taking off his coat and shoes. “Nothing quite like some weather symbolism on this fine afternoon.”

Sicheng laughs, “Shut up, you’re getting water on the parquet.” He takes off his own coat and helps Kun with their bags. “I’ll go put your coats in the dryer and be right back. The kitchen is right ahead and the bathroom is to the left, just in case.”

He comes back to Ten lounging on the couch and Kun pouring himself water in the kitchen. “Lovely interior,” Ten tells him. 

“Don’t lie,” Sicheng snorts.

“No, really. It feels very cozy, and homey. Is that a real fireplace?”

Sicheng nods. “The guest rooms are on the second floor, if you guys want to move your stuff there.”

Kun lets out a sigh of relief, “Great. I’d like to pass out for several hours. If you would excuse me.” 

“Go right ahead,” Sicheng laughs, “You both must be tired.”

“I’m hungry, actually.” Ten says. He rests his chin on his palm and bats his eyelashes, “Cook for me.”

Sicheng raises an eyebrow, “Didn’t eat on the train?”

“I was asleep then,” Ten smiles. “Now, come on. Show off your new cooking skills. I’ll be the judge.”

“Prepare to be amazed,” Sicheng boasts. He forces Ten to help him around the kitchen, and is reminded of the old days when they were together. Ten usually did the cooking in their apartment, but often they would just order takeout after a tiring day. But it’s only now that Sicheng realizes how chaotic Ten is while cooking. He blasts loud music and sings even more loudly, and it’s such a huge contrast compared to how Jaehyun holds himself, quiet and concentrated. Sicheng doesn’t know why he’s suddenly comparing them both when he knows they’re so different, but he guesses the thought should be phrased differently: he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly thinking of Jaehyun. It’s been a little of a week since they last talked, and really, it’s been a week too long.

Sicheng feels the same emptiness he felt when he and Ten ended things at the absence, and it’s such a horrible and lonely feeling, even more so since he and Jaehyun were never a thing. Ten must’ve noticed Sicheng’s mood shift, because he lowers down the volume on his phone and says he’ll go wake Kun. Sicheng nods at him and serves the food, willing himself to get it together. His friends are staying for only three days, it shouldn’t be too hard of a task. He takes a deep breath and puts on a smile when he sees Kun get dragged down the stairs. 

“Come on,” Ten is saying, “the food will get cold.”

“It’s barely been an hour,” Kun whines. 

“It’s been almost two!”

They continue bickering even as they eat. It’s a familiar and warm dynamic, which makes Sicheng forget the thoughts swirling in his head and pretend that everything is alright. “You two really do act like a married couple,” he says in between handfuls of rice. “It’s hilarious, like I have front row tickets to a circus.”

“Hey!” Ten glares at him meanwhile Kun closes his mouth to chew intently.

“Am I wrong?”

“About which part?” Ten counters. “Because the circus part is rude and untrue.” 

Sicheng sighs, “About you guys acting so couple-y. I’m not clueless, you know. I can see there’s something going on.”

“There’s nothing!” Ten says, a little too quickly.

“Okay,” Sicheng lowers his utensils, “I guess this is a talk for another time.”

Towards the evening the rain lessens into a drizzle and Ten demands to go see the town. Kun protests about the weather being unpleasant but Ten argues with, “The forecast shows it’ll rain the entire week so we might as well go out when it’s only drizzling.”

Sicheng can't argue with that logic, so he takes them downtown. They stroll around the center, even though there isn’t much to see. They enter the farmer’s market and even walk past Sicheng’s school. So far things are alright, and Sicheng almost thinks the lighthouse won’t be brought up and they can go straight back to his house.

Unfortunately, Sicheng’s worry manifests. “Take us to the lighthouse already,” Ten says, nudging him in a way that makes Sicheng almost lose his balance. “Literally what is the point of walking around the entire town and not seeing the lighthouse? I came here specifically for this reason.”

“And not for me?”

“Nope,” Ten grins. 

Sicheng resists to bite on his cheek. “I was saving the best for last,” he lies.

“How smart,” Ten says. “You’d make a subpar tour guide.”

“Well aren’t you generous,” Sicheng glares. “Come on, this way.”

The lighthouse is a ten minute walk away. It stands majestically and lonely just like the very first time Sicheng saw it. To this day, it still takes Sicheng’s breath away.

“Wow,” Kun says beside him. “Now I truly understand why you moved here. The landscapes are gorgeous.”

“I know,” Sicheng replies wistfully. He fixes his gaze on the seagulls flying over them. “It’s breathtaking, isn’t it.”

Ten and Kun walk to the cliffs, but Sicheng trails behind. He wonders if Jaehyun is working right now, if he can see them from the galleries. He doesn’t know if he wants Jaehyun to see them and he doesn’t dare look up. Ten pulls him by the arm to take photos of them all despite the drizzle getting in the way.

“There’s something charming about this atmosphere,” Ten says, “even with all the rain. It adds to the ambience.”

“It really does,” Kun agrees. “Doesn’t Jaehyun live nearby?”

Sicheng’s resolve almost cracks. “He’s busy at the moment,” he tells them. 

“Aw, what a shame,” Ten pouts, “I was looking forward to meeting him.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Sicheng reassures, dread filling his chest. His friends let it go, focusing on the crashing waves. They go back home when the rain becomes harder. Sicheng looks back at the lighthouse only once, then walks faster.

There’s not much to do when it’s raining buckets, Sicheng realizes. With his work being done for the day, he figures he should entertain his friends somehow. He used to be good at this, back in college, he’d throw parties sometimes, he’d host his friends’ parties, but it’s been so long, Sicheng can’t remember how the process used to go.

“How about we watch a movie or something?” he suggests lamely.

“I’ll pick one,” Ten says, going through Sicheng’s Netflix. 

Kun snatches the remote away from him. “No way, you’ll pick horror again.” 

“Yes, just to piss you off,” Ten counters.

Sicheng smiles at them, tired but a little less empty. He often forgets how nice it is to be around them, how easily they fill in his gaps of loneliness. “You guys are cute,” he says. 

Ten stops arguing. He scratches the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’d had since university. “Um.” 

“Don’t deny it,” Sicheng relaxes further into his armrest. “It’s a refreshing dynamic, actually. Passive aggressive remarks as a form of love language.”

It’s probably the first time in forever Sicheng sees Kun look this flustered. “You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all. We’re all grown people. Don’t tell me you’ve been keeping this - secret because of me,” Sicheng frowns.

“I mean,” Kun starts, “Considering your guys’ history…”

“It’s been almost a year,” Sicheng reminds him, “we’re both over it.”

Ten nods, “That’s what I’ve been saying. I mean, at first, I also felt so guilty for feeling things like that, but then you mentioned you were interested in someone else, and it was such a relief, you know?”

“But you used to go on dates after we separated,” Sicheng quirks a brow.

“Those were different,” Ten waves a hand, frantic, “Kun is, uh, different.” 

A fond grin spreads over Sicheng, “Tell me how it happened.”

“After you moved out, Ten used to stay over at my place a lot,” Kun says. Ten is resting his chin over his shoulder, pressing his cheek to Kun’s neck like a leech. Kun tries shrugging Ten off him, but he’s smiling, and Ten is smiling as well, and Sicheng hasn’t seen that type of smile—open, carefree—on Ten in a very long time. “I don’t know how it happened, really, when I’ve known Ten for so long, but suddenly I started looking at him differently. Then after New Years we had a talk.”

“We’re just testing the waters right now,” Ten says. “You know, with the long distance and everything. Maybe this can go somewhere, maybe it won’t.” 

“I really do hope things work out for you,” Sicheng says. “You both have a special bond. Even back in university.”

“Really?” Kun asks.

“Oh, definitely,” Sicheng says, “you both are just so in sync, it’s almost amazing.”

“Maybe we can go on a double date with you and Jaehyun,” Ten says, a gleam in his eyes. “Not today, well, but another time.” 

“Ah,” Sicheng falters, “yeah. Another time.”

—

Another time comes much quicker than Sicheng would've liked. It’s the next day when Sicheng and Ten are lounging in the living room when there’s a loud knock at the front door. 

Ten says, “Let me go get it.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Sicheng says and focuses on grading integral functions. He vaguely registers Ten unlocking the door and saying a hello, however the voice of the other party makes Sicheng’s head snap up. 

“Good afternoon,” Jaehyun says politely by the porch, “um, is Sicheng here?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s just in the living room. Sicheng! There’s someone who wants to see you,” Ten calls. Sicheng stands up from his chair, and suddenly his heart starts beating very fast. After over a week of radio silence from Jaehyun, he reaches out at the wrong moment. He can get the wrong idea about all this, about Ten in his house. Sicheng desperately hopes he doesn’t get the wrong idea. 

“Hey, Jaehyun,” Sicheng says, a little awkwardly. “Is everything okay?”

Jaehyun looks a little like a deer caught in the headlights. His tired eyes jump back and forth between him and Ten, so Sicheng says, “Ten, can you excuse us?”

“Ah, no, it’s alright,” Jaehyun cuts in. “I think I’ll just come by another time.” 

“No, it’s fine—” Sicheng tries, but Jaehyun shakes his head. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t think this is the right time.”

Christ, Sicheng thinks, Jaehyun really did get the wrong idea, didn’t he. “Okay,” Sicheng replies, unsure. He wants to frown, he wants to talk to Jaehyun, he wants to explain himself. Instead, he says, “Be safe.”

“You too.” There is something vulnerable in Jaehyun’s eyes. He bows a little in Ten’s direction and then turns away. In the distance, there’s a quiet rumble of thunder. Sicheng watches Jaehyun’s retreating back for several seconds too long and then closes the door with a heavy sigh.

“Alright, what the hell was that?” Ten asks Sicheng, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. What the hell was this awkwardness? Did something happen?”

Sicheng runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “We had a little falling out, if you could even call it that…”

Ten seats Sicheng down on the kitchen chair unceremoniously and puts his hands on Sicheng’s shoulders. “Tell me what happened.”

“Well, I kind of turned Jaehyun down the other day.”

“What?” Ten asks, eyes wide. “Why in the world would you do that? Don't you like him?”

“I do!” Sicheng admits. He feels the weight of his words on his shoulders. He feels everything sink in. It hits him like a storm. “I really do, but I’m so scared, Ten. I’m really scared of messing things up again.”

“Oh, Sicheng,” Ten softens. He runs a hand through Sicheng’s hair, cradles his cheek in a way he knows Sicheng likes. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

“No,” Sicheng turns away. “What happened to our relationship wasn’t your fault. It’s just—this is all so messy. He knows you’re my ex and now he sees you in my house, and with the way I kind of indirectly turned him down a while ago he probably thinks we’re something more than friends. I could tell.”

There’s a strike of lightning. Sicheng only now realizes how intense the rain has gotten. For the first time in a very long time, it’s storming. 

Ten shows that he’s listening, so Sicheng continues, the words spilling out of his system before he can stop himself, “And it’s also even more messy because we met a time when I was going through a break-up and he was mourning the loss of his parents, and I don’t know, what if he thinks the feelings he has for me are more than what they are because of loneliness?” There’s another rumble of thunder, louder this time, making Sicheng wince. “Christ, this weather is ridiculous,” he mutters.

Ten flicks his forehead. “Why are you speaking over his feelings, stupid? I’m sure you know that’s not the case.”

“No, you’re right,” Sicheng concedes. “Jaehyun’s feelings have always been so transparent… I don’t know how to explain it, but he almost had the same mood as the weather. Oh, my god.” Sicheng abruptly stands up, shakes Ten’s hands off him. “The weather.” 

“What?” Ten asks him. “What about the weather?”

“Oh, my god,” Sicheng continues saying. “Ten, you know my weather log, right?”

“Yeah?” Ten says. “I didn’t think you were still running it.”

“I am—wait, god. Let me go get it.” Sicheng practically runs upstairs to his room. He takes out the journal from his desk drawer and starts frantically flipping through it.

August. Heavy rains. September. He and Jaehyun meet. Heavy rains. October. He and Jaehyun start talking. Less heavy rains. November. He and Jaehyun spend time together. For the first time, the sky clears. _Maybe the weather likes your company_. New years. Rains. _Come back soon so it will be sunny again_. January. The necklace, the painting. Sun rays. Sunshine. February. Jaehyun’s birthday. Clear skies. Pretty sunsets. March. The date of Sicheng meeting Jaehyun at the port. Raining when Jaehyun opened up about his weather. April. Sunshine. May. Sicheng in the lighthouse, drunk and scared, telling Jaehyun how they’re friends. Rain for a whole week. Now. Just now. The vulnerable look in Jaehyun’s eyes. _A storm_. 

Sicheng drops the journal. He takes a step back until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed, and he sits down, staring into nothing. A million thoughts start running through his mind. It’s not possible, he thinks, it can’t be. But it also makes sense. It adds up. It all falls into place: Jaehyun’s common offhanded comments about the weather, him saying he can't leave the town, him forgetting his umbrella most of the time, him knowing when it was raining without looking up, the rain being hot and warm, all the times Jaehyun looked somber, all the times Jaehyun looked happy.

“Sicheng, what is going on?” comes Ten’s voice as he walks up the wooden steps. He sits next to Sicheng on the bed.

“Ten, tell me I’m not crazy.”

“I can’t judge unless you talk to me.”

Sicheng lets out a laugh but then turns more serious. “Ten… Jaehyun— he— I think he might be causing the rain in this town.” Sicheng picks up the journal again and flits to the very first page of notes. “It started raining uncontrollably almost two years ago, during the time Jaehyun lost his parents,” he begins, “and it rained nonstop for a year, until…”

“Until?”

“Until I moved here,” Sicheng gulps. He closes the journal. “Until we started getting to know each other better. I don’t know, fuck, but the dates when I was hanging out by the lighthouse or when he went out were all followed by good weather. Whenever Jaehyun came by or something nice happened, sunshine always followed… Hell, even from the day Jaehyun started seeing me after work the sky became clear for days until that day when I got drunk and indirectly turned him down. And now it’s been raining for an entire week. I think the weather is tied down to Jaehyun’s emotions…”

“Sicheng, you’re not making any sense,” Ten says softly.

“No, I am making sense. It rains when Jaehyun is upset or sad or something. When his parents passed, he was grieving… So it rained all the time… One time when he cried in my arms it rained briefly. The sky clears when he feels happy… It happened right in front of my eyes many times! I saw the clouds part, and I even asked him if he saw that, and he said yes but he wasn’t looking, meaning he knew, because he caused them to part. God, so many times when he smiled so brightly the sun started to shine. What the hell.”

Ten places a hand on his knee and another one on his forehead. “You’re not sick, are you?”

Sicheng brushes him off. “No, I’m good. I don’t know. It sounds insane, but at the same time it explains why the town has been experiencing constant rains, don’t you think?”

Ten thinks for a moment. He says, “Then, according to your absolutely insane theory, if it’s storming like shit right now it means Jaehyun must be in a bad mood, like, really upset.”

“Yeah,” Sicheng says, “obviously.”

“And you said it’s been raining for a week. You’ve been not talking to him for a week. Christ, Sicheng,” Ten laughs, “what are you doing sitting here instead of confronting Jaehyun and telling him you love him?”

“You really think my theory might be true?”

“True or not, you still need to tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Sicheng clenches and unclenches his fists. “Yeah. Should I go now? Or when?”

“Now, duh,” Ten rolls his eyes. “Why wait?”

“What about you guys? Kun is out god knows where in this stupid storm…”

“I’ll go text Kun and go out to get him, meanwhile you go out and talk to Jaehyun. If the whole weather-emotion theory _is_ true, then the storm should die down soon, so Kun will be alright. It’s a win-win situation, yeah?”

“Okay,” Sicheng says. “Yeah. God, I’m so nervous. I feel like I might die.”

Ten flicks his forehead again. “Idiot. You’ll be fine.” 

They both get ready in a hurry. Ten takes one umbrella from the umbrella rack and Sicheng takes the other. He tries his best to slow down the beating of his heart against his ribcage, but it proves to be impossibly hard, especially knowing that he himself is the cause of this storm right now, that he’s been the cause of Jaehyun’s good mood these past months, that Taeyong was _right_ when he said Sicheng was like a good omen. Sicheng wants to cry.

“Hey, chin up,” Ten tells him. “Just—be honest with yourself and with Jaehyun. You both deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks, man,” Sicheng says. He pulls Ten into a brief hug. It’s uncomfortable and a little painful but it’s grounding. Sicheng pulls away to unlock his door. He’s instantly hit with a cold gust of wind and the loud sound of rain falling against the ground. The sky is a dark grey—the ominous type, where it feels like it might collapse at any moment. Thunder continues to rumble. This rain isn’t soft or warm, it’s harsh and cold. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Mm,” Ten nods at him. “I have the spare keys to the house in case you decide to stay back.”

“Okay. I’m going to go first. You call Kun first and find out his whereabouts.” Sicheng says. He is already getting soaked and he’s not even out on the porch. He gives Ten’s shoulder a squeeze and then quickly starts walking in the direction of the lighthouse.

It’s a familiar route. Sicheng has walked it many times, maybe bordering close to a hundred already. Now, though, with the rain in the way and the puddles under his feet, he wonders if the route has always been this long. He doesn’t even know where Jaehyun is. He doesn’t know what to tell him once he sees him.

Sicheng grips his umbrella harder and takes out his phone from his coat pocket to dial Jaehyun’s number. The screen gets wet even despite the umbrella shielding it but he manages to hit the call button after a few tries. He puts the phone close to his ear but it just continues beeping. Jaehyun isn’t picking up.

“Fuck,” Sicheng says, and calls him again. He’s passing by Jaehyun’s house by now. He runs up to the porch, rings the doorbell. He notices all the lights in the house are turned off, so he assumes Jaehyun isn’t there. Sicheng feels rainwater under his shoes with each step he takes. The front and back of his jeans are soaked, so are his shoulders. Once he’s at the lighthouse, he knocks on the door, but is met with no reply again. 

Sicheng tries to call him again, but his fingers are so wet he can’t unlock his phone. He tries to dry the screen with his coat but his umbrella is in the way, so Sicheng gives up and folds it. Rain unforgivingly hits his head and face, but he doesn’t care anymore. He gives Jaehyun one last call, but it doesn’t get picked up, either. Frustrated, Sicheng starts circling around the lighthouse, just in case Jaehyun might be nearby. And he’s right. He sees Jaehyun by the cliffs, standing alone and getting soaked as well. 

Lightning strikes again, and Sicheng feels like crying again. Just what is Jaehyun feeling for it to storm this hard? Just what must have he been through all this time? The burden of your emotions having an impact on other people, the guilt of making it rain this often, the responsibility of it all. Sicheng can’t fathom it. In front of Jaehyun is a storm. Raging waves rise up to the cliffs, hit and melt against the rocks. The clouds swirl ominously in the sky, and it’s raining so _much_. 

Sicheng starts walking closer to him, then breaks out into a run and clutches him from behind. “Jaehyun,” he says desperately. Jaehyun makes a grunt in surprise. “My dear Jaehyun.” 

“Sicheng?” Jaehyun asks, surprised.

Sicheng spins him around, cups his cheeks. His face is cold, and his eyes are rimmed red, like he’s been crying. Christ, of course he’s been crying. It’s storming so much he might as well have been.

“Jaehyun,” Sicheng says again, “Jaehyun.” He pulls him close, hugs him hard. Jaehyun is stiff against his hold, like he isn’t expecting to be hugged at all. 

“I’m here,” Sicheng whispers. He runs a hand through Jaehyun’s soaked hair, settling it on the back of his neck. He makes Jaehyun look into his eyes. “I’m here. You need to calm down. You’ll create a maelstrom.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen. “Take deep breaths,” Sicheng says. “Stop overthinking. Just—listen to me, okay? You need to calm down. This storm is insane.”

“What are you—”

“I know that you are tied to the weather,” Sicheng interrupts. “I figured it out. Just now.”

“You—”

Sicheng cradles Jaehyun’s cheek. He can feel Jaehyun’s heartbeat from where he’s pressed close to him. It’s erratic, just like Sicheng’s own. He knocks their foreheads together. Jaehyun’s breathing is laboured and uneven, and his shoulders are shaking.

“Take deep breaths,” Sicheng tells him. “In and out, alright?” He feels Jaehyun nod. “Good. Now listen to me, Jaehyun, I want you to know that what you saw at my house is not what you think it was. Ten and I are just friends. He and my other friend are just visiting me for a couple of days. If anything, Ten likes someone else, and so do I.”

“I—”

“Listen to me,” Sicheng says again. His lips are so close, their breaths are mingling. Rain is pouring. “I want you to know that what I said about us being friends was not me rejecting you but me being a coward. I was scared, and I am sorry for that. I didn’t want to ruin the equilibrium we had created, I didn’t want to get hurt again. But, Jaehyun, I never once thought of rejecting you and I never once thought of you of someone who is just a friend, because you’re not. Fuck, Jaehyun,” he breathes, “I am in _love_ with you, so don’t you dare think otherwise.”

Jaehyun parts his lips. “You love me?”

“I love you,” Sicheng says, “I love you so much it hurts.”

“You love me,” Jaehyun repeats. Sicheng pulls away slightly to cup Jaehyun’s cheeks again and leans back in to kiss him. It’s cold: Jaehyun’s lips are cold, Sicheng’s lips are cold, their hands are cold, their bodies are cold, the rain hitting them is cold, but the kiss feels hot. Jaehyun goes rigid for a second before he winds a hand to the back of Sicheng’s neck and kisses him harder. It’s loud: the rain is loud, the waves crashing and foaming against the cliffs are loud, but Sicheng can only focus on the sound of Jaehyun’s lips on his. 

When he opens his eyes, the sky is less dark. The pressure hitting Sicheng’s shoulders becomes less intense. He sees that Jaehyun’s eyes are glassy. “Don’t cry,” he says, “It’s already raining so much.”

“You’re the one who’s crying,” is what Jaehyun says. He then wipes at his face in an attempt to get rid of the rain. “Fuck, Sicheng, how did you realize?”

“You sometimes talked about the weather like it was part of you, so I just connected the dots,” Sicheng says. “It _is_ part of you?”

“It’s too long of a story,” Jaehyun says. 

“Please tell me,” Sicheng pleads. He kisses Jaehyun again, softer. “I wish to know.”

“Okay,” Jaehyun agrees. His voice is quiet, but Sicheng hears him loud and clear. “I will. Later.”

“Later,” Sicheng repeats. A smile tugs at his lips, and Jaehyun mirrors it. Sicheng kisses him again, because he can and because he wants to. Jaehyun’s dimple shows when he leans away, so Sicheng kisses it too, and then he kisses his mouth and the tip of his nose and the apple of his cheek and his temple and Jaehyun starts laughing because they’re both drenched and shivering and it’s raining—until it isn’t. 

The sky rumbles again, and the clouds part. Sunshine filters through, falling onto Sicheng’s eyes, onto Jaehyun’s face, and they both squint because it’s suddenly so bright and warm, and Sicheng kisses Jaehyun again. 

“You’re so dramatic,” Sicheng smiles against his lips.

“I’m very happy right now, if you couldn’t tell,” Jaehyun says. His smile is shy, dimples portuding. Even like this, he is still so beautiful. He wipes at his face again. “Ah, Sicheng, you have absolutely no idea for how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Sicheng rests his head in the crook of Jaehyun’s neck, “Yeah? You don’t, either. But we should go back inside, I don’t think I can feel my limbs anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun agrees. “Yeah, okay. To my place?”

“Yep,” Sicheng loops his arm with Jaehyun’s, a familiar gesture. Jaehyun stumbles into his side, huddles close to him. It should feel yucky, with the both of them drenched and freezing, but it only feels nice. “I can make you some tea.”

“Tea would be nice. We can drink it by the fireplace.”

“Sounds good,” Sicheng hums. ‘Sounds real good.”

Jaehyun opens the door and they both step inside, shivering. It’s considerably much warmer indoors with the crackling of the fireplace and the windows being closed; Sicheng can already feel numbness in the tips of his fingers, meaning they are starting to defrost. Jaehyun takes off his coat, and Sicheng notices how his shirt, wet from the rain, clings to his chest and back. “Christ,” Sicheng says out loud, “I need this off you right this instant.”

Jaehyun gives him an amused up and down, “Right back at you.” Sicheng laughs, throwing his head back. He unbuttons the first two buttons of his shirt, puts on a show. 

“Jesus,” Jaehyun snorts. “You’re impossible.” Sicheng leans in to steal a kiss, quick and chaste, before heading to the kitchen and pouring water into the kettle. Jaehyun trails after him, hugging him from behind when the kettle starts boiling, resting his chin on Sicheng’s shoulder like Sicheng has always wanted him to. It’s an intimate, special moment, only now their drenched clothes are starting to feel yucky, so Sicheng shrugs him off.

“Seriously, get this thing off, will you?” he spins around and takes a fistful of the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt.

“Why don’t you get it off for me yourself, then?”

Sicheng takes him up on the offer. He places his cold hand under Jaehyun’s shirt, purposefully runs his fingers over his lower abdomen, feeling the muscles contract under his touch, before he takes it off in one go. It shouldn’t be surprising, really, to know that Jaehyun has a toned body, most likely from all the years he helped his father with fishing and other activities, but it is a very satisfying revelation.

It’s safe to say the tea Sicheng makes goes cold. It starts with Jaehyun tugging them to the living room to throw his shirt next to the fireplace to dry it off, and Sicheng’s button up follows right behind, and it continues with Jaehyun pressing Sicheng down on the sofa and kissing him hard.

“You’ll get the couch wet,” Sicheng protests. 

Jaehyun’s eyes are dark. “More the reason to take our clothes off.”

Sicheng can’t say he dislikes the idea. He runs a hand up and down Jaehyun’s torso, tentative and curious. “What happened to warming ourselves up?”

“Isn’t that what we are doing?” Jaehyun asks and kisses his jaw. “You’re already burning.” He trails kisses down the column of Sicheng’s neck, his touch impossibly hot. Sicheng rests a hand on Jaehyun’s bicep as if to steady himself, although he doesn’t quite know what he needs to steady himself from. All he can feel is like he’s falling, and Jaehyun’s lips on his throat, gently nipping and sucking love bites, grounding him. It’s dizzying.

Sicheng pulls Jaehyun up back to his lips, winds both his hands behind Jaehyun’s neck to pull him close, chest to chest. He kisses him with so much force a little sound escapes from Jaehyun’s mouth. Sicheng wants to hear more of it, he wants to hear more of Jaehyun, he wants to hear him now. He prods his tongue into Jaehyun’s mouth and Jaehyun lets him, parting his lips, releasing a soft whine. Sicheng angles his head so he can kiss deeper, harder. He lightly tugs on the hairs of Jaehyun’s nape, eliciting another quiet groan, bites on his lower lip, making him groan louder. 

Jaehyun was right, he does feel like burning. Whereas at first he felt shivers from standing outside in the rain for too long, now, he’s hot all over, shivering for different reasons. The touch of skin on skin, the fire not far away from them, the sound of Jaehyun moaning into his mouth, it’s all too much. Overcome by a wave of want, Sicheng flips them over. Jaehyun lets out a sound of surprise as Sicheng straddles his lap, resting his knees on the sides of his waist, and leans back down to kiss him, more unhurried this time, but still desperate.

Their lips move in tandem, back and forth like the tide over the shore. It’s quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and their hard breaths. Jaehyun’s panting loudly; he looks wrecked, chest heaving, heartbeat loud and erratic, sweat forming over his forehead, and they’ve only _kissed_. Sicheng gently brushes his bangs away from his face that are still damp from the rain but starting to dry, curling around the ends. Jaehyun’s face and body are illuminated orange by the glow from the fire, and Sicheng wants nothing more than to touch him.

He realizes he can, he realizes Jaehyun wants him to. Jaehyun is looking up at him, something hungry and raw in his gaze all at once. So he does. He runs his hands over Jaehyn’s arms, from his biceps until his fingers. He interlocks their hands for a moment, giving Jaehyun a reassuring squeeze, before disentangling them and running them over his chest instead. 

“So gorgeous,” Sicheng murmurs, “You’re so gorgeous for me.”

Sicheng’s hand wanders down to his pectorals, brushes over his nipples. His touch leaves goosebumps over Jaehyun’s skin in its wake, making his breath hitch. “Sensitive?” Sicheng asks, although it’s a rhetorical question. He gets the answer with another brush of his hand that makes Jaehyun moan, and Sicheng swallows the sound with his mouth, kisses Jaehyun for long and hard. 

Jaehyun’s hands are a comforting weight on his hips, His grip is strong, not enough to bruise purple but strong enough to leave a mark, serving like an anchor to reality, a sign that Sicheng isn’t dreaming right now. It’s all real: him kissing Jaehyun is real, and it feels so good, so _good_ , Sicheng wants more, he physically needs more. He tentatively rolls his hips, and it makes Jaehyun arch into him, like a wave. He rolls his hips again, more purposeful this time, and Jaehyun almost falls apart. “Sicheng,” he pants.

“What is it?” Sicheng murmurs. 

“Take the damn trousers off me.”

Sicheng places a hand on Jaehyun’s hip, but hesitates, “Are you sure?”

Jaehyun nods frantically. “Please,” he whispers. 

Sicheng nods, and presses a brief kiss to Jaehyun’s stomach, above his navel. When he pulls away, he sees Jaehyun’s pupils are dilated. “How do you want to do this?” Sicheng asks him. 

“Fuck me,” Jaehyun pants, “please. I want you so much.”

“Fuck,” Sicheng exhales. “Okay. In the bedroom.” 

“Too far,” Jaehyun is breathing heavily, “it’s too far.”

“We need lube,” Sicheng says, “and condoms. We’re not doing this in the living room.” He caresses Jaehyun’s arm, then goes up to scratch behind his neck. “Come on, be good.”

“The guest bedroom, then,” Jaehyun preens under the touch. He slots their lips again, painfully slow, before pulling back and leading Sicheng to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. Sicheng really doesn’t get the chance to look around the interior, not when Jaehyun is pulling him down on the bed with him, not when Jaehyun is kissing him so intently. 

“The bottom drawer,” Jaehyun rasps out after what seems to be a long while. He cups Sicheng through his jeans, and Sicheng almost falls on top of him, arms giving out. “You’re so hard,” Jaehyun says; it’s an observation. 

He’s been hard since Jaehyun first kissed his throat, but he can no longer suppress it anymore. “Undress me,” Sicheng says—demands—pleads—he doesn’t know anymore. Jaehyun quickly makes work to rid him of his jeans and underwear in one go. Sicheng hastily gets the condoms and lube, mind spinning with need and want and everything mixed together. It’s hard to think straight. He settles in between Jaehyun’s legs, spreading them with his one hand, another hand fumbling with the zipper of his trousers, also tugging them down. He yanks Jaehyun’s boxers off as well, revelling in the sight of Jaehyun’s cock achingly hard, leaking precome at the tip.

“God,” Sicheng says, “every part of you is beautiful.” He pours lube in his hand, warms it up, then wraps it around the base of Jaehyun’s cock, sliding his fist up and down slowly, experimentally, gauging a reaction out of Jaehyun. 

Jaehyun doesn’t disappoint. “Sicheng,” his breath stutters, a shudder going through his body, “fuck.” He grips Sicheng’s shoulder, hard and bruising this time, and Sicheng can feel just how aching Jaehyun is for touch, how long he’s waited for this. He presses a kiss to Jaehyun’s mouth, then goes lower, kissing his neck, chest, abdomen, the inside of his thighs. He presses a kiss to the head of Jaehyun’s cock, then takes him into his mouth. 

Jaehyun moans at that, a hand coming to grip Sicheng’s hair. It’s such a beautiful sound, soft and light and breathy. So desperate. Sicheng swirls his tongue around the tip, then swallows him down without any warning. 

“Sicheng, god,” Jaehyun almost whines. His hips stutter with obvious restraint, so as not to thrust up, so Sicheng places a hand on his hip bone to ground him, not letting him. He sinks down lower and lower, until Jaehyun’s cock hits the back of his throat. He slightly hollows his cheeks, runs his tongue over the side of Jaehyun’s cock, then pulls back up only to go down once again. 

The grip on his hair turns almost painful. Jaehyun tugs and tugs, as if not knowing what to do with his hands, with the sounds falling off his mouth, with himself. He’s losing coherency, falling apart only with Sicheng’s mouth on him.

“Wait, Sicheng,” Jaehyun gasps, “don’t—stop—I’ll come like this.”

Sicheng hums around his cock, then pulls off to say, hoarsely, “Come, then.”

“No,” Jaehun shakes his head, “want you inside me.” He searches for Sicheng’s hand to interlace their fingers, palms touching securely. He’s breathing even more heavily than before, chest sweating and flushed. His eyes look glassy, emotional—they somehow always look so full of emotion, so vulnerable and trusting and wanting and _needing_ and Sicheng curses. 

“Shit, okay.” He sits on his knees in between Jaehyun’s legs while he gets more lube onto his hand and fingers. With another hand he gives Jaehyun’s thigh a gentle squeeze, and Jaehyun trembles, oh god, he actually trembles, and then he pushes a finger inside of him, and Jaehyun goes rigid against him. 

“Does it hurt?” Sicheng asks quietly, drawing patterns on Jaehyun’s hips with his free hand in an attempt to comfort. 

“No,” Jaehyun whispers, catching his breath, “it was just sudden. You can—you can move.”

“Mm,” Sicheng presses his finger deeper and deeper, presses against his walls. “You’re so tight.”

“More,” Jaehyun demands, “give me more. I can take more.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Sicheng murmurs, but he pulls out until the first knuckle and adds another finger and pushes inside again.

“You’re not, you’re—making me feel good,” Jaehyun stutters, “so good. Ah—” he trails off when Sicheng curls his fingers in him; he throws his head back, exposing his neck.

“You’re so good,” Sicheng says, “taking my fingers so well.” He presses a kiss to the curve of Jaehyun’s throat, gentle and loving despite wanting to bite it, paint it with purple love bites like a canvas. “So good to me.”

“More,” Jaehyun’s voice breaks, “please.” 

Sicheng presses a third finger in, and it's then when Jaehyun starts moving his hips back impatiently. He fucks his fingers in and out, pushes them out and back in, adding more lube to ease the slide and stretch. Jaehyun is still tight, but he’s moaning, meeting his fingers with every roll of his hips when Sicheng presses against his prostate, getting more desperate with each thrust.

“Stop, Sicheng— or I’ll— fuck,” Jaehyun whines.

“Use your words,” Sicheng presses harder. 

“I’ll come,” Jaehyun says, his thighs spasming, cock throbbing and leaking against his stomach, “I swear I’ll come.”

Sicheng curls his fingers against his prostate one last time and then pulls them out carefully. He takes in Jaehyun’s state: his flushed body, the bruises on his neck and handprints on his hips, his swollen lips and damp hair, and feels so much. Jaehyun is so beautiful, whether he’s working or cooking or driving or in bed, and Sicheng loves him so much. He _wants_ him so much. 

The way he’s hard is getting borderline painful. Sicheng rolls a condom onto his cock with shaking hands and then slicks himself up with more lube. He parts Jaehyun’s legs more, lines himself up with his entrance.

“Come on,” Jaehyun looks at him with a half-lidded gaze, piercing and hungry, and that’s all it takes for Sicheng to push in. God, Jaehyun is so tight around him, Sicheng groans—they both do, and then Jaehyun’s arms wind over Sicheng’s neck, pulling him close, breath hitching when Sicheng bottoms out.

“Kiss me,” Jaehyun begs, “kiss me, please,” he asks, and Sicheng kisses him as best as he can, too overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the heat, by everything. It’s an open mouthed kiss, if anything, too sloppy to be considered a proper one, but it’s still electrifying. Jaehyun pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, making Sicheng gasp, he rakes his hands over Sicheng’s back, leaving marks, making Sicheng hiss in slight pain. 

“You’re so good,” Sicheng whispers against his lips, “so hot, so beautiful, so lovely. You feel so good.”

Jaehyun shuts him up with another open mouthed kiss. “Move,” he says, or tries to say, because his words are slurred and incoherent, grinding his hips. Sicheng knocks their foreheads together and pulls several inches out before sliding back in. 

“Ah,” Jaehyun exhales. It’s a sight to behold, really, to have Jaehyun so pliant and patient under him, so needing and wanting and loving, just for him, only for him. 

“I love you,” Sicheng says, the words spilling over like a heavy rain cloud letting out the rain it can no longer contain, creating a heavy downpour. He thrusts into Jaehyun slowly, tenderly, “I love you so much.” 

Jaehyun looks up at him, and cups his cheeks. “I love you,” he says. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” He’s tearing up, from the emotion or from Sicheng finding his prostate—Sicheng doesn’t know. Jaehyun’s train of thought stops momentarily and he catches his breath, too sensitive from the pleasure, eyes shutting closed for a second, but then he runs his thumbs over Sicheng’s cheeks and says, “Only after having met you did I realize how easy it is to be happy again.”

It tips Sicheng over the edge. “Jaehyun,” he rasps out, not sure what else to say. There is so much he wants to say, but he can’t think straight, not with Jaehyun so tight around him, so he simply kisses Jaehyun deeply, thrusts into him faster, hoping, praying to get his message across. It seems that it does, because Jaehyun kisses him back with just as much want and love, and Sicheng thinks it’s the sweat falling from his eyes and not his tears. 

Jaehyun wipes them away anyway. He looks so lovingly at Sicheng—he always does—and he smiles, so wide and happy, and Sicheng can’t help but smile back. It’s contagious, he thinks, Jaehyun’s smile is contagious. He presses a brief kiss to Jaehyun’s lips and picks up the pace of his thrusts, and Jaehyun’s smile turns into a gasp, and then into a moan. His hips start faltering, stuttering, and Sicheng can tell that he’s close. He wraps a hand around Jaehyun’s cock, pumps it several times. 

“Ah, Sicheng I’m gonna—”

“Come, Sicheng whispers into Jaehyun’s ear, low and hoarse. “Come for me.” He hits Jaehyun’s prostate over and over, squeezes Jaehyun’s cock, and then Jaehyun is arching, spilling into Sicheng’s hand with a low groan. His hands go limp, and so does his body, depleted of all energy and adrenaline. Sicheng rides him through his orgasm, and then pulls out of him, chases his own. He spills into the condom, ties it and throws it onto the floor, suddenly feeling exhausted himself. 

He turns to stand up, but then Jaehyun is reaching for him, and that’s all that takes for Sicheng to fall into his arms. Jaehyun pulls him close, hides his face in the crook of Sicheng’s neck, like it’s the most natural thing ever. Perhaps it can be. 

“Jaehyun, we need to clean up, love”, Sicheng says, running a hand through Jaehyun’s hair. 

“Five minutes,” Jaehyun says. His voice is rough after sex, Sicheng realizes, his face kind of glows with bliss. “And then we’ll take a shower.”

“Okay,” Sicheng says, kissing Jaehyun’s forehead, “whatever you want.” 

Five minutes turn into fifteen with Jaehyun not being able to get his hands off Sicheng. They’re intimate, loving touches, almost as if Jaehyun is in disbelief of what just had happened. Sicheng kisses him as a way of saying that he’s here, he won’t go anywhere, it’s real, it really happened. Jaehyun responds with his fingers slipping through his. 

After another five minutes Sicheng gently peels Jaehyun off himself and goes to the bathroom next to the bedroom to start the shower. He returns to see Jaehyun half-asleep on the bed, cheeks still flushed and eyes barely keeping themselves open.

“The shower’s ready,” Sicheng cradles Jaehyun’s face. “Come on, I’ll wash your hair.”

“Mm,” Jaehyun replies. “Promise?”

“Promise.” 

It’s too cramped in the shower for two grown men to stand in it, but it’s a good opportunity to stand close. Warm water pleasantly hits Sicheng’s shoulders, ridding him off any tiredness and relaxing his muscles. He gently cards his fingers through Jaehyun’s hair, the shampoo instantly getting washed away. Jaehyun has his eyes closed, and there’s a lazy smile on his face; he’s humming a tune Sicheng doesn’t know of, his voice quiet but melodic against the stream of the shower. 

“You sing so well,” Sicheng comments, working shower gel down Jaehyun’s arms and chest with a green hand glove, “your voice is so deep.”

The song Jaehyun is humming gets stopped as he lets out a laugh—a shy, embarrassed one, the tips of his ears colouring a bright red. 

“We just had sex and you’re embarrassed about me complimenting your singing?” Sicheng smiles. He washes Jaehyun’s back, traces meaningless patterns and words, and it’s such a simple thing to do, but Sicheng's heart is still expanding beyond limit. What a privilege it is, to have Jaehyun this close to him, to love him openly, to kiss him freely. 

Jaehyun kisses him back instead of retaliating, and then they finish washing up quickly. Jaehyun insists on drying Sicheng’s hair for him, and Sicheng tries to conceal a blush at the affections. Jaehyun’s love language seems to be acts of service, which is impossibly fitting. He presses a kiss to Sicheng’s temple when thinks Sicheng’s hair must have dried. 

“Let me give you a spare change of clothes,” he whispers. “Will you stay the night?”

Sicheng nods, “If you want me to.” 

“I do.”

“Okay then,” Sicheng smiles, “anything you want.” 

Jaehyun comes back dressed a minute later with spare clothes. They fit Sicheng nicely, despite Jaehyun’s shoulders being broader. 

“Are you tired?” Sicheng asks him. “We can sleep.”

“I’m a little thirsty,” Jaehyun admits, “I’d also like you to tell you about the whole weather thing.”

Sicheng completely forgot about that. He kisses the top of Jaehyun’s head. “I’ll put on the kettle again, then.”

He finds his phone abandoned on the kitchen counter, texts Ten that he’ll be staying over, and ignores Ten’s suggestive emojis and thumbs up. Two mugs of tea later, Jaehyun and Sicheng are sitting next to each other on the kitchen island stools, knees touching, shoulders pressed together. The fire has long put out, leaving behind a pleasant smell of burnt wood. Jaehyun is fiddling with his fingers nervously. Sicheng takes them and intertwines their hands, patiently waiting for him to say something. 

“My mother was a weather maiden,” Jaehyun begins. “She was someone who could feel the weather and control it, like manifest sunshine or make it rain. I got the gift from her. Weather maidens go way back generations in my family. There have been a countless number of them in history centuries ago, maybe you’ve heard of them, maybe you haven’t.” Sicheng squeezes their hands, urging him to continue. “My mom has always said that what we have is a gift, but truly, I don’t feel like it is. How is it a gift when all I’ve been doing is flooding this poor town?”

“Don’t say that,” Sicheng frowns. “It is a gift.”

Jaehyun shakes his head and sighs, “It’s a curse. I can't control it, not like my mom. My emotions are tied to the sky, but I don’t know how to deal with it. And I want to hate it, but it’s all that I have left from her.” 

Sicheng brings Jaehyun’s hand up to his lips, kisses each knuckle. He runs soothing circles over Jaehyun’s back, holds him close. 

“Admit it, Sicheng, you hate the rain too, don’t you? Everyone does.”

“No,” Sicheng says, “I hate to see you in pain, I hate to see you upset. But if the rain is part of you, then I love it. I love all of you.”

Jaehyun gives him a watery smile. “I’m bound to this place. I can’t go somewhere else, or I would bring constant rains, and I can’t leave this town, because this lighthouse is all I have left from my father and there’s no one who can maintain it. Because I’m stuck here, people have been miserable for two years and counting. Sad, isn’t it?”

“Don’t say that,” Sicheng says again. “You were grieving, you’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to cry. You were alone.” He kisses Jaehyun’s tears away, “You’re not alone now. I’m here, I’m here for you. I won’t go.” 

“It hurts,” Jaehyun admits. “I miss them so much.”

“It will always hurt,” Sicheng says softly, “but with time it will hurt a little bit less. Your parents love you, Jaehyun. They always will.”

“So will I,” Jaehyun says. 

“You deserve to be happy, Jaehyun,” Sicheng kisses him again. “You’re so wonderful, and hardworking, so talented. You’re meant for so many great things beyond this town.”

Jaehyun lets out a sound in between a laugh and a sob, “I wanted to be a music teacher, did you know? I even got a degree in a neighbouring town. I was about to get a job in the city around the time the accident happened, so I scraped all my plans away and stayed.”

“You would be such a wonderful teacher,” Sicheng whispers, carding his hands through Jaehyun’s hair. “You’re so good with children, with instruments. You can still be.”

Jaehyun sniffles, “But the lighthouse…”

“It doesn't have to be your entire life,” Sicheng says, “we can put up job openings, hire someone to help you with it. You should do something your heart wants, you deserve it.”

“But the weather…” 

“It’s okay,” Sicheng soothes, “there’ll be days when you’re happy and there’ll be days when you’re sad. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not good if it’s always sunny, you know? Having it rain once in a while is good.”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun says, unsure.

“You can learn how to control the weather, like your mother,” Sicheng says. “There must be books for that, right? Even if there aren’t, we can figure something out. You can learn how to draw a line between your emotions and the sky. You can pursue what you love, you can let yourself live. You— I want to see you happy, you deserve to be happy.”

Jaehyun’s eyes start looking glassy again. His eyebrows furrow and unfurrow and finally his shoulders slump. He doesn’t quite say anything more, just leans into him. Sicheng reassuringly hugs him even closer. Jaehyun molds into him, fits into his space like a puzzle piece. His body is warm, like a furnace. He smells like the sea. “We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” Jaehyun says, earnest, “for listening. For believing.”

“I’m here for you,” Sicheng smiles. “Let’s prepare something to eat and then sleep, okay?”

Jaehyun mirrors back a smile, but it’s more subdued. His mood turns visibly slightly somber, even after they have dinner and settle to go back to bed. 

“Tell me more about the whole weather thing,” Sicheng whispers in the darkness. It’s a fruitless attempt to take Jaehyun’s mind off things. He feels Jaehyun’s hand graze his waist and curl around it, like he’s yearning for touch. 

“What would you like to know?”

“How do you manifest sunshine?”

“Earlier, people used to pray to weather maidens. It was a simple thing– a prayer about it raining for crops to grow or a prayer for the sun to shine. I’m not sure about how things work now. People don’t really believe in this stuff anymore.”

“It sounds surreal,” Sicheng says. “Like something out of a movie.”

“Tell me about it,” Jaehyun snorts into his shoulder. “I’m honestly quite surprised you’re taking all this information in so calmly.”

“I’m a skeptic,” Sicheng admits, laughing, “but I can’t argue with the facts if they’re right before my eyes. How does this work though, scientifically? How is this possible?” 

“This land was graced with the weather Gods, once upon a time,” Jaehyun says, voice starting to sound sleepy. “And then, a weather maiden was born so they could relay prayers from people to the Gods. Or so the legend says.”

“You’re kidding me,” Sicheng says, huffing.

“Maybe.” There’s a prominent grin in Jaehyun’s voice. “Maybe not. This was a long long time ago.” 

“So if I pray to you, you’ll give me sunshine?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, “I don’t know how to do that. But If I could… I would. Every day.”

—

Sicheng wakes because of sunlight hitting his face. It leaves a warm trace over his skin, like a gentle touch. His back is pressed to Jaehyun’s chest, and Jaehyun’s arm is draped over his waist, securely keeping him in place.

Sicheng reaches over to the nightstand to get his phone. It’s nine in the morning, and he has several unread messages from Ten. Ranging from _Kun and I having dinner in your house without you feels so wrong_ to _Had fun last night? lololol_ to which Sicheng sends him a poker face emoji. 

Ten instantly texts back, _Lol btw idk if you saw it but there was a huge rainbow outside yesterday_

_Really?_ Sicheng types out as a reply. 

_Yes LMFAOOO i couldn’t stop laughing like that’s so gay_

_Shut up. Pretty sure it was just a natural phenomenon_

_Or maybe Jaehyun’s just super gay_

Sicheng snorts, which causes Jaehyun to stir. He noses at Sicheng’s neck, tightens his hold around his waist. “Go back to sleep,” he murmurs against his skin. 

“I will,” Sicheng hums. He turns around so he and Jaehyun can be face to face. He traces the slope of Jaehyun’s nose with the tip of his finger. “Sleep well?”

“Mm,” Jaehyun says. “What time is it?”

“Around nine. My friends have a train at four in the evening, so I’ll have to go soon. There are still parts of this town that I promised to show them.”

“Okay,” Jaehyun says sleepily. “You guys have fun.”

“Actually, they really wanted to meet you,” Sicheng says. “If you don’t mind.”

“Oh,” the gaze in Jaehyun’s eyes sharpens, as if the words wake him up. “I feel like I left a bit of a bad impression yesterday.”

Sicheng laughs, “It’s okay, really. We don’t have to do anything huge, maybe go to a cafe. Then I’ll send them off at the train station. I’d like you to meet them, but you don’t have to.”

Jaehyun tucks Sicheng’s head under his chin, “I’ll come with you.” 

“Sure?” 

“I’d like to meet them, too.” Jaehyun’s voice is muffled into Sicheng’s hair. His heartbeat is loud, steady. 

Sicheng smiles against Jaehyun’s collarbone. “I think you all would get along well. They’ll love you.” He then lies on his back, blinking several times to get adjusted to the light. Morning sun rays light up the bedroom in a very pretty shade of yellow. Sicheng looks around the room now that he isn’t occupied. It’s with 

“This is a very lived-in guest room,” he comments.

“Actually,” Jaehyun says, “I’ve been using it as my bedroom for the past two years. Didn’t want to sleep upstairs after, you know.” He props himself on his elbow, runs a hand through his messy hair, combing stray strands into place. It doesn’t really work, making Sicheng smile. “Brought back bad memories. Then it just became a habit. I still call it the guest room though.”

Sicheng nods. “It’s very cozy.” He gently touches Jaehyun’s arm, then chest. Jaehyun looks pretty like this, skin turning honey because of the sunlight, torso bare, white sheets covering his waist downwards. There are purple marks scattered on his neck and collarbones like proof of what happened the day before. Sicheng touches them, too, carefully, with his lips this time. Jaehyun’s voice comes out like a rumble. He leans down to kiss Sicheng on the forehead. “Mm. I wish I could wake up next to you every day.”

“That can be arranged,” Sicheng smiles. “But later. Now, we need to eat.”

With a sigh Jaehyun rolls out of bed to make breakfast, and Sicheng thinks about how they’ve never eaten breakfast together before. They’ve never sat by the same table, drinking bitter coffee in the mornings, and Sicheng realizes he wants to do this everyday. He wants to wake up to Jaehyun beside him, too; he wants to listen to Jaehyun sing along to what’s playing on the television while he cooks, he wants Jaehyun to nag him to clean up quicker if they don’t want to be late, he wants Jaehyun kiss him deeply as they get ready together, the taste of coffee prominent on his tongue, he wants Jaehyun to let him pick which radio station to put on once they get inside his car.

“Truthfully, I’m a little nervous,” Sicheng admits as he fastens his seatbelt.

“Why? Shouldn’t I be the one worried?”

“I know, It’s just, ugh,” Sicheng groans, “You and Kun and Ten are all so important to me. It feels like they’re my parents meeting my significant other for the first time.”

“Significant other?” Jaehyun grins.

“No, male best friend,” Sicheng huffs. “Of course a significant other. Come on, we’ll be late now. Kun hates when people are not on time.”

“Alright, alright.” Jaehyun starts his car. “We’ll get there in five minutes.”

It’s a quiet drive. Sicheng notices how green it is outside. Leaves have long sprouted on trees, and it truly feels like summer is coming. A while later, Sicheng finds himself in front of a quaint cafe downtown, with Kun and Ten already waiting for them. They look overjoyed to finally meet Jaehyun properly. 

“Sicheng has told us so much about you,” Kun shakes his hand.

“Good things, I hope,” Jaehyun smiles in return.

“He kept whining to us about how much he’s pining for you in the group chat,” Ten slings an arm over Jaehyun’s shoulders, as if they’re lifelong best friends. 

“No I didn't,” Sicheng glares at him. 

“You didn’t, but it’s still true,” Ten grins. “Let's go inside, shall we?”

They sit down by the window, Jaehyun sitting next to Sicheng, and Ten and Kun across from them. They order a big kettle of strawberry mint tea and desserts, talk about work, about the city, retell a whole lot of embarrassing stories about Sicheng from their university days. Sicheng can’t be mad, not when Jaehyun looks so ecstatic to hear about them. Jaehyun’s hand is a comfortable weight on his knee, like a silent reassurance that he needn't be worried. And perhaps he needn’t after all, because Sicheng can tell that his friends like Jaehyun, and that Jaehyun likes them in return. The scene of them all together doesn’t feel like two worlds colliding, but instead like two pieces of a puzzle coming together and falling into place, making the bigger picture complete.

Jaehyun drives Ten and Kun to the train station in the evening. They say goodbye at the platform. Sicheng won’t say it aloud, but he is feeling a little somber to see his friends go.

“Take care, you two,” Ten tells them. “I’ll visit you guys as much as work allows me.”

“Come to the city, too,” Kun adds. “I’m sure Sicheng would love to have you there, and so would we.”

“Alright, enough sappy talk,” Sicheng heaves his friends’ bags off the ground and hands them to them. “The train is about to leave.”

“Avoidance means Sicheng is flustered,” Ten whispers not so quietly into Jaehyun’s ear. Sicheng gives him a nudge with his elbow, but Ten only pinches his cheek in return. Kun rolls his eyes at the childish antics and takes Ten by the arm and they embark on the train, and after that the train leaves and they’re gone, like they’ve never been here in the first place. Sicheng watches the train turn into a tiny speck in the distance, and then grabs Jaehyun’s hand and squeezes it with a smile. 

“You have good friends,” Jaehyun says on the way back. “They love you a lot.”

“They’re your friends now, too,” Sicheng replies. Jaehyun doesn’t give him a reply, but the Sun does shine brighter.

Jaehyun parks by the lighthouse, and it almost feels like coming home. The familiar tall white structure he’s grown to love is standing proudly by a green covered cliff. There are seagulls flying around it, and the waves are still relentlessly against the rocks. Only now the painting is different, because the sky is blue, the brightest blue one will ever see.

Some time later, maybe a week or so, the sky is still blue and cloudless. People are enjoying the first rainless summer in years, they go outside and spend their time by the beach, but instead, Sicheng is roaming through the town’s library in search of any peculiar books about the weather. His search isn’t entirely fruitless, and he comes to Jaehyun’s place with several books checked out. Jaehyun gives him an amused smile, but starts reading them nonetheless. They both look through the books in the attic of Jaehyun’s house, find diaries of his ancestors, of people who could control the push and pull of the clouds. 

A month or so later, Sicheng tries praying for Jaehyun for it to rain for the first time, and it works. 

Half a year or so later, Jaehyun takes Sicheng to visit his parents’ grave. Jaehyun prays to them, hands clasped, eyes screwed shut. And Sicheng prays, too, he prays for them to be resting well, for Jaehyun to be okay, for it not to rain this day. That night, it doesn't storm like it usually would. 

A year or so later, Sicheng and Jaehyun start living together. The spaces that have been empty start to get filled out by Jaehyun’s belongings, by his presence. He is who Sicheng wakes up to every day, he is who Sicheng silently prays to every day. This evening is just like any other: Sicheng is sitting beside Jaehyun on the sofa of their living room, grading tests meanwhile Jaehyun is doing something on his laptop.

“I’m thinking of opening up job spaces to maintain the lighthouse,” Jaehyun says, turning his head, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“Really?” Sicheng smiles. He kisses Jaehyun sweetly, interlocks their hands securely. They’ve kissed many times over the year, but no matter the count, Sicheng’s breath never fails to be stolen away. 

“Really,” Jaehyun kisses back with finality. He takes the reading glasses off Sicheng’s nose, folds them neatly. “Could you check if the school has any vacant music teacher positions?”

—

If one had transferred into a high school in this small little town recently, they would be greeted with good weather. They would get into the class of Mr. Dong, the maths teacher each student respects, and they would get to know Mr. Jeong, the new music teacher with immense passion and love for his pupils. And if a classmate told them that two years ago this town was plagued with endless rains, one wouldn’t believe them. Because this town has endlessly blue skies, oil painting-esque clouds and good weather nearly all year round, and it rains, it does rain, but only rarely. But the townsfolk who’ve lived here for long enough know. They remember the sudden storms, the constant rains, the floods and the lack of sunshine for months on end. And also, they remember how gradually the sky turned from grey to a permanent blue over the time a new maths teacher moved into it, and rumour has it— Mr. Dong has something to do with it.

**Author's Note:**

> the biggest thank you to vee for listening to me whine and helping me develop this fic.. love you so much


End file.
